


Seven Devils on the Run

by Jazz_2_chess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Awkward Flirting, Banshee Lydia Martin, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Monster of the Week, The Pack Ships It, soft Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 95,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazz_2_chess/pseuds/Jazz_2_chess
Summary: Something is happening in Beacon Hills and the pack isn't all too sure what it is about. The only thing they know is that something big is coming when the bodies start piling up. Also there are Stiles and Derek who refuse to accept that, for all the intents and purposes, they are already dating.What happens when each member of the pack has to face the demons they have tried to bury?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update regularly and I hope you are patient with me. Apart from that, I hope you enjoy the story.

_"Even the Devil was once an Angel..."_

When the phone rang and Stiles shot up in bed at three in the morning to hear Scott’s frantic voice in the receiver, he found himself catapulted back to a time in the past when they were running through the woods in search of a body. He rubbed his eyes, the clock on his nightstand blurry in his vision.

“Slow down- fuck’s sake- Scott!” Heavy breathing followed by another rant was all his attempt did. Great.

“I can’t hear a word you say- slow down!” Ah, finally, Stiles thought, once the lamp in his room shed some light. A knock on the window and Stiles was seriously considering homicide. Again.

“Wait a second- yes, I’m still there- just, wait!” He ripped open the window, ready to hit Scott over the head for interrupting his beauty-sleep when he abruptly stopped all motion.

“Derek?”

“Derek is here?” Scott yelled into the receiver at a volume that made _Derek_ wince. Ha. At least Stiles wasn’t the only one who had been woken up at this ungodly hour. Derek shrugged and gestured for Stiles to answer Scott.

“Yes- he’s here but I don’t know why-“

“I called him.” A nod from Derek confirmed that apparent rush of insanity.

“Why? What’s going on?” If Scott had called Derek there must be something really wrong here. God, why hadn’t he turned off his phone? Was seven hours of sleep asking for too much? According to Scott, it apparently was.

“A body- they found a body.” Flashback. Déjà vu. Call it whatever the fuck you want. Stiles was getting too old for this shit.

“Who? Where? When? Seriously, Scotty- you know how this goes! Just tell me-“

“I wanted to! You kept complaining-“

“Scott!” Derek roared. It was the first and only word he had said since arriving through Stiles’ window. Nice to know where his priorities lay.

“Sorry. So, listen: A police officer was called to the office of a judge. Turns out, he was stabbed through the chest on his desk.”

“Why does that require you calling me like hell is on your heels?” God, he was so tired.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah- there were symbols carved into his chest. And a lot of his blood is missing, like he’s empty. Gross, I know.”

“Were there any wounds- like a vampire or something?” What even was his life that his first idea was a supernatural one, instead of a simple madman running around with a knife.

“No- I mean, he had like that wound in his chest where the knife was, but nothing else.” Too early, his brain was screaming at him.

“I still don’t see why Derek is here?” Not that he didn’t like having Derek here but he would have preferred a reasonable hour and a lighter mood. The scowl on Derek’s face was deep enough without any killers on the run. Supernatural or not.

“Well, remember the symbols?” Stiles nodded before remembering that Scott couldn’t see him and made an affirming sound.

“Looks like they’re magic. Your Dad had Deaton take a look at it and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen them but they’re definitely old and roman. And magic.”

“You said that already.” Stiles sighed, exasperated. That was the exact moment when Derek grabbed the phone, told Scott he’d take it from here and ended the call. Stiles chose to express his gratitude by being silent.

“We wanted to make sure you’re safe…” Derek mumbled, all the anger replaced with sorrow and Stiles nearly melted. It was a close call. Then it dawned on him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Derek looked pained, obviously having hoped it would escape Stiles’ notice.

“It was a ritualistic killing. A-“ he paused “a sacrifice.” Stiles’ chest clenched painfully at the word. That was something he didn’t want nor need a reminder of. And for it to happen again was a little much.

“It’s not a darach. But something is running around killing and I know they just found one victim but I’m sure there will be more. There always are. And I wanted to make sure that-“ Yeah, he didn’t need to say it for Stiles to know what was going through all of their heads.

“If it’s a pattern and the judge was one of them, then- uh, virgins could be next…”

Aaaand there it was.

Seriously, he was twenty-two, how was that an issue. Then he remembered why he unfortunately was still not getting laid and hoped his heartbeat didn’t betray him. It hadn’t taken all that long for him to figure out that one-night stands- or one night make out sessions- didn’t do it for him. Once he had realised that his attraction was largely centred around one dense Sourwolf in particular- after having a gay crisis and several uncomfortable situations around said wolf- he had resigned himself to a long time without sex. And now that was once again going to bite him in the ass.

Fuck.

“Sorry for waking you up.” Derek said suddenly, looking sheepish.

“You didn’t…”

“What?”

“Wake me up, I was already on the phone with Scott…”

“Yeah, I know- just… sorry…” Derek’s ears had turned red somewhere in between and Stiles clamped down the urge to ruffle his hair.

“Soo…” he cleared his throat “You gonna stay here or-“

“If- if you don’t mind?” Stiles nodded his okay and got back into bed without a second thought. Derek switched off the light before Stiles could ask him to and then remained standing. Stiles could have kicked himself.

“You can lay down, you know?” He tried for casual and failed by a mile. He had completely forgotten that the chair Derek usually slept in, whenever he was on watching-Stiles-duty, was broken and unusable. And since he knew that Derek considered the couch downstairs to be too far away for him to sleep on, in case of an emergency, the only option left was sharing a bed. Not that they hadn’t done that before either.

Stiles distinctly recalled spending two days in a motel room with Derek and another night in a B&B when they had been hunting for a kelpie. Still, those nights were always a challenge. Having your crush?- love interest?- within touching distance was not easy. This time, however, Stiles suspected he was too tired to worry about personal space and the accidental crossing of boundaries. Derek, apparently, thought the very same thing, because he slid under the blanket and pulled Stiles into his arms. Not that it was the first time either, but Stiles relished in the feeling of it nonetheless.

Occurrences, when Derek craved physical connection, were rare as it was.

“You comfortable? I can move my arm if you want…” Derek’s breath tickled his neck and caused Stiles to shiver. He really hoped Derek didn’t pick up on how much of a pleasurable wave he was suppressing.

“Yep.” He cringed at the sound of his own voice, too high-pitched and somewhat strangled.

“You sure?”

“Hm hm.” He wasn’t able to give more of an answer, afraid he might blurt out how much he liked having Derek pressed against him. Derek’s grip tightened briefly, then Stiles felt him relax. To Stiles’ eternal relief, sleep came quickly. It was three in the morning after all.

* * *

The next morning saw Stiles in a much better mood- having woken up to Derek snuggling him and looking adorable. He had untangled himself to start preparing breakfast, not fazed when he found his Dad’s room already empty. A message on the counter confirmed that the Sheriff had been called in early.

“Stiles- do you…” Derek stopped mid-sentence. Stiles turned around from where he was making ham & eggs, wanting to know what Derek had seen to make him stop talking. He didn’t find anything. Derek seemed to stare at him before he shook himself out of whatever it was he was having and approached the counter.

“Do I have what?”

“Uhm- breakfast?” It wasn’t what Derek had been about to say, that much was clear, but Stiles knew from experience that pestering would get him nowhere. At least not with Derek.

“You want some?” Derek nodded eagerly, making him look like a puppy. A large puppy.

“Did you sleep well?” Derek asked around some bites of the omelette Stiles had made for him. Stiles chose to answer vaguely, not wanting to admit that having Derek as his personal shield did wonders for his insomnia. He had never felt so safe.

“You think we should head out? Go to the station? Maybe they already have something…” Stiles mused while peeling off the label of his water bottle, just so that his hands were occupied.

“I think Lydia is driving by today. When Scott called, he said he had talked to her already.”

“Good. Didn’t wanna go anyway…” And he really hadn’t. He just wanted to get as much information as possible then throw himself head first into research. Preferably, without leaving the house. It was Saturday after all. And that meant he didn’t have to go to his lectures.

“What about you?” Derek wouldn’t want to go either, of that Stiles was sure. And he wasn’t disappointed.

“I need to do some grocery shopping.” How exciting, Stiles sarcastically thought but didn’t say.

“Do you want to join me? We could have lunch together…” Derek added, almost as an afterthought. Stiles refused to be overly excited about that. They had dinner at least once a week anyway.

* * *

Turned out, there had been another killing in the morning. In the supermarket of all places. So, when Stiles and Derek showed up to do their grocery shopping, the yellow tape was already wrapped around the doors and the Sheriff was gesturing at them to come over.

“Another one. Same carvings. Blood’s gone. Chest wound. No weapon.” Stiles briefly wondered if his father had swallowed a telegraph.

“We were just going to buy groceries…” Derek said apologetically. The Sheriff smiled at him, clearly amused at the implication.

“Well, tough luck.” He looked around, making sure no one was within hearing range.

“Do you have any leads on it yet? Any luck with those symbols?” Stiles shook his head, explaining that he was waiting for Lydia or Deaton to mail him a copy.

“Was this one a judge too?” Derek suddenly asked.

“No, it was a police officer- good one too- he quit two years ago but he was a hard worker. I remember him always coming in early- staying late. One of those who take their job seriously.” The Sheriff wrung his hands. Stiles knew how much it hurt when one of their own was taken, especially after quitting not too long ago. Sometimes, Stiles, mused, life was really cruel.

On the way to Derek’s loft, which he had furnished after Erica had complained one too many times about her not having a couch to sit on, Stiles’ brain was working a mile per minute.

“It’s not like last time. Judge and officer aren’t the same category, I’m pretty sure.” Derek nodded while looking ahead at the road. His mother, he had told Stiles one evening, had raised him to be a safe driver. One wouldn’t know with all the racing he did, once someone was injured and bleeding out on the backseat. Granted, that was usually Stiles and he was not going to complain about Derek’s urgency to get him to the ER, but his point still stood.

“Maybe it’s just a number thing, you know? Not categories but-“

“You mean, whatever is killing those people just needs a specific number of victims?”

“Yes.”

“But wouldn’t they choose someone else that is not shopping in a super market full of people in broad daylight?”

“Fair point.” Stiles conceded. They reached the loft and discussed the matter all the way into the kitchen where Derek put his keys in the little bowl Lydia had bought him.

“Hey- did Jackson call you back?” The wolf hadn’t answered his phone in the morning, which had both Stiles and Derek on edge. The others of the pack had all answered sometime over the day.

Just then, Stiles’ phone rang, playing “Monster” by Imagine Dragons.

“Stiles? Stiles! Where are you? I’m at your house- fuck! I can’t reach Scott and there are fifty calls on my voicemail, what the hell is going on?” Jackson’s frantic voice echoed in the kitchen.

“Jackson- calm down! Everything’s alright. I’m with Derek, there were some killings and we don’t know what’s going on yet.” He heard Jackson breathe in deeply on the other end. They had become friends over time, saving each other will do that to you. Also, Stiles had realised once he had stopped doting on Lydia, that Jackson was every bit as insecure as his favourite strawberry-blonde goddess was. If for different reasons. Jackson had started to open up when he joined the pack and had become quite involved.

And protective. God, was he protective. Derek had explained it to him over dinner. Apparently, Jackson felt protective of whoever he considered pack because wolves were territorial. Imagine that.

“I’m coming over!” Jackson stated and hung up before either Stiles or Derek could protest.

“So… that happened.” Derek made a non-committal sound and went back to chopping onions. Meanwhile, Stiles emerged himself in the symbols Deaton had finally emailed him. So far, he couldn’t decipher any of them. Which was annoying.

Jackson arrived fifteen minutes later, making a bee-line for Stiles and proceeded to pull him into a hug so tight, Stiles heard his shoulders crack, before hitting him on the head.

“You all are seriously fucked up! What do you think it felt like waking up to fifty missed calls and no one answering their damn phone!” Derek discreetly turned the volume on his phone back to on, earning a glare from Stiles.

“I forgot.” Derek said with his hands up in a defensive gesture “I didn’t want it to wake you up so I put it on silent and then I forgot to turn it back to normal.”

“Wake you up?” Jackson’s anger had seemingly dissipated at the treacherous phrase. Now, he was looking at Stiles with a raised brow and a smirk on his face. Stiles just rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t call me before now!”

“Of course, I did! What- you think, I’m an idiot?” Stiles cursed and took another look at his screen. No missed calls. He should have bought that new phone after that incident with the Pixies last month.

Meanwhile, Jackson had pulled out his phone and scrolled through the protocol, proving effectively that he had not only indeed called Stiles, but that he had called him first. Stiles tried not to feel too proud about that.

“Must be a glitch then,” he offered as way of an explanation.

“So, where is everyone?” Derek then launched into the recapitulation of last night’s events, telling Jackson about the bodies, Scott’s call, that Lydia and Deaton were already working on it and Isaac, Erica and Boyd were working which meant that their phones were on silent. Derek made mental note to change that precisely since such emergencies were unfortunately rather common in Beacon Hills. That he hadn’t thought about it earlier bugged him.

He felt their presence through the pack bond but still.

Better safe than sorry.

Derek had learned that the hard way.

* * *

Stiles woke up the next morning with Derek once again plastered to his side. He could get used to this. Immediately after thinking it, he scolded himself. How often had he told himself not to get his hopes up, not to over interpret some small gestures or bodily reactions. Derek stirred in his sleep, pulling Stiles impossibly closer to his overheated body. Stiles couldn’t keep the soft gasp from leaving his mouth when he felt Derek’s erection against his lower back.

Normal reaction. Stiles reminded himself. Just a normal reaction. This had nothing to do with him. A knock on the door made him sit up so fast, he hit Derek in the face with his elbow. Just when his Dad came in did Derek sit up and complain loudly about how Stiles was a freaking ninja in his sleep. Silence suddenly hung in the air. The three of them stared at each other, then to the ground.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs.” The Sheriff huffed. “You too, Derek.” Derek’s facial expression was somewhere between horrified, amused and confused and Stiles would have laughed at it if the situation wasn’t so embarrassing. He was in his underwear, damn it. He really didn’t want to explain to his Dad why he was cuddling Derek, who was just as undressed as he was. Not that his father didn’t know about his feelings for the wolf. He wasn’t the Sheriff for nothing, but still.

In the meantime, Derek was on his way to getting dressed, sleepily feeling around for the t-shirt he had discarded so carelessly last night. They made it downstairs in one piece- Derek was just as clumsy in the morning as Stiles was on the daily. He might have gone so far and called Derek stumbling over his own legs cute.

In his head, mind you. Only ever in his head.

“Is there something you two need to tell me?” The Sheriff grinned at them. Stiles just huffed and denied, earning a glare from his Dad that he didn’t feel was justified. Yeah, maybe he should man up and tell Derek but- unlike his father- he did not think that Derek reciprocated. If anything, it was the opposite and that would ruin not only their friendship but the pack dynamic.

Stiles didn’t realise the atmosphere in the room had changed when he felt Derek’s eyes on him. Just then, the photographs on the table caught his eye.

“A third one? Seriously? Who is this guy?” This time, it was a priest, staring into the camera with dead eyes. Shivers ran down Stiles’ spine.

“He’s moving fast.” Derek concluded, his voice saying what his words weren’t. Anger. Fear. Worry. If there was one thing Derek hated, it was people dying on his watch.

“It doesn’t make sense. The church was full when he was stabbed but no one saw anything…” Stiles could clearly see the strain on his father’s face.

“You think there is going to be more? Maybe three is our lucky number?”

“So you have no idea either what’s doing is? Did you get anywhere with the symbols?” That the answer was no made Stiles feel more useless than he cared to admit. He felt like time was running out and they had no idea what they were up against or where to start. Stiles sincerely hoped three victims was enough. To him, three was already three too many.

“There is no mention of them in the Bestiary. I found something online about religious backgrounds but they all vary so much…” Derek’s hand closed around his shoulder, calming him down. Stiles didn’t miss his Dad smiling knowingly but he brushed it off. There was nothing going on. And they had something more important to do anyway.

“Maybe dive deeper into that? I have to go, just wanted to let you know.” The Sheriff was almost out of the door when he yelled over his shoulder: “Derek- you are invited to dinner.” Stiles loved the way Derek blushed at the invitation.

* * *

Erica came over in the afternoon. She brought doughnuts for Stiles and rabbit food for Derek, scowling at him all the way to the kitchen.

“Some Alpha you are…” She teased him when he dug into his salad. “Wouldn’t know you’re a wolf with all the greens you’re inhaling.” Stiles snorted into his dream of chocolate-covered heaven.

“Isaac wants to come over for dinner if that’s okay with you? Said he needed to talk…” Stiles was torn between wanting to know what was wrong and bemoaning the fact that his Derek-time was being significantly shortened. Not that he was selfish enough to keep the Alpha from comforting his Beta, but he was human after all.

As promised, the curly haired cherub showed up the minute Stiles had put the lasagne into the oven. That was some ridiculous timing if Stiles ever saw one.

Apparently, Isaac was having nightmares again, with Derek out of the loft. Stiles felt guilty for hogging the Alpha but Isaac just smiled at him with that enigmatic smile he had and asked to stay the night. His Dad would have a field day with two scantily clad, testosterone filled, muscly werewolves in his house. Even if Isaac so obviously saw Derek as a big brother figure and Stiles- well, Stiles had become somewhat of a mother hen to the blond. A title that had Derek smiling softly at him whenever Isaac used it.

Stiles chose not to dwell on these smiles too much. It wouldn’t do him any good to daydream about something that was never going to happen. If Stiles was being honest, it hurt too much already.

* * *

Somehow, Stiles had been able to convince Derek to go on a run through the preserve. Not that the Alpha was happy about it. And he had said so.

Loudly.

Repeatedly.

Still, he was running alongside Stiles with a speed that Stiles knew for sure was too slow for Derek. He had started taking up running after an incident with a rogue Omega a year ago. One too many times he had found himself out of breath in the woods, trying to hide because he couldn’t run anymore.

After having to spend two weeks in the hospital he had decided that building up his stamina was a great idea. Some of the pack joined him occasionally, but Derek was the only one not complaining. Two miles in, the adrenaline rush was slowly dying down, when Stiles’ foot slipped on something and he fell over.

Cursing, he stood up, brushing off leaves and dirt. When he turned around he saw Derek stare to the ground. The expression on his face made Stiles’ stomach drop to his knees.

Not again.

Please, not again. 

As it turned out, his prayers weren't answered.

“Derek-“ But Derek was already on his phone, talking a mile per minute.

“Scott? Yes- no. We went on a run- yes, usual route. Can you- yes- yes, I know that! Just- alright…” That was a nonsensical conversation if Stiles ever heard one. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but envy their supernatural hearing powers. Since he didn’t possess them, he had to ask Derek to give him a run down.

“Lydia had a vision so Scott's already on the way to her.” Huh. That was not what he had expected to hear.

“She’s fine. Erica was with her so she couldn’t wander off like last time.” Stiles felt relieved at that. He had comforted Lydia on more than one occasion when she had stumbled upon one body or the other. They couldn’t prevent it every time it happened- the body count in Beacon Hills was rising steadily after all- but they tried their best to keep her from falling too deep into the vision. Nowadays, Lydia would know how to stay grounded and still find out the necessary information, without having to leave her apartment.

Still, having Erica on watch-out was certainly a good thing.

“So, now we wait?” Derek nodded then crouched down.

“Did you get a good look at the symbols? They’re the same, right?” Stiles wasn’t all too keen about having to take a closer look at the dead man but he figured, he might as well. They needed this resolved. After confirming that the marks were the same ones the other victims had had, Stiles felt the feeling of helplessness creep back in. He had really hoped

“It’s four in four. Derek-“

“I know- I know you thought the third was the last but-“ he fiddled with the phone in his hands “what if it’s seven?” And he was right. Stiles knew it in his bones. It had been his second hypothesis too. That meant if they didn’t put an end to it fast, there would be three more deaths on their hands.

Yep. Panic attack incoming. Stiles tried desperately to focus on breathing, pressed a hand against his chest, the beating of his heart roaring loudly in his ears. His stomach rebelled and he fought against the urge to vomit.

“In through your nose- yes, like that. Come on, Stiles.” Derek steadied him with a hand on his back that Stiles shied away from. He didn’t want to be touched right now. He just needed air. Derek stepped away, hands leaving Stiles’ body. He quickly brought distance between himself and the body, not able to look at the eyes of the dead man any longer.

Scott’s voice registered over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Stiles forced himself to count to eight in his head before releasing his breath. It worked. Barely. But after a minute or two, his lungs didn’t block the airflow anymore. He put his hands on his knees, crouching down slightly, his vision stopped turning, finally. After drawing in a shaky breath, he walked back to Scott and Derek on wobbly knees.

Neither confronted him about it, which he was glad for. That was nothing he wanted to talk about.

“You know him?” Derek asked Scott who looked at the man with something like recognition in his eyes.

“I think so…” He contemplated for a minute. “Wasn’t that the guy at the- Stiles, don’t you remember? On campus? The one with the…” Huh. Now that he mentioned it, Stiles did recognise him. Shit.

“Yeah, wasn’t he the one with the LGBTQ+ flag? On the first day in gender studies?” It had been a memorable occasion to watch a new student come in covered in the colours of the rainbow but it had been received very warmly among the other students. Stiles hoped that hadn’t just been because they were in gender studies but because the people were finally over their exclusion and outdated views.

“Wasn’t he asexual?” Scott added.

“Yes.” Stiles recalled him talking about it and that he was glad of how understanding his family had been even though they were rather conservative. Not that this should be something that needed praise, because, in Stiles opinion, as long as everyone consented on an informed basis, he was fine with every orientation.

Stiles felt a tug in his stomach once he realised that he would never come back to those parents.

“Parrish is on the way.” Derek huffed. Stiles could see how uncomfortable he was just waiting beside a dead man. Even though, they should be used to it by now, they all shared the sentiment. The anger, the frustration that had been steadily building up now exploded:

“How do we still not have anything? This is ridiculous! Whatever is killing those people must have left a trace, DNA, anything! I mean, come on! The supermarket was full of people are you seriously telling me that no one, not one saw what happened? And the church? There’s people there watch each other like hawks! How come nobody saw him do this?” Derek put a hand on is shoulder in a calming gesture but Stiles shrugged it off. He was so mad at this, at the situation, at himself for not having figured it out yet.

“We have nothing! The symbols don’t lead to anything, the victims are as random as it gets!” He had the urge to punch something.

“What are we gonna do? Let the people just die until that monster decided he’s had enough?”

“Stiles-“ Derek said softly, making Stiles look at him “We’ll figure it out. We always do. It’s just a little harder this time, okay?” Not okay. Not at all. But they didn’t have any other option. So, Stiles nodded and went back to examining the symbols. Scott rattled down all the information he knew about the victims so that maybe they could figure out a connection. Stiles listened but it didn’t feel like anything would come from that. As far as he could see, in terms of connection between the victims?

So far, there was none.

* * *

“No! No, seriously! I’ve had it!” Stiles yelled into his phone. Jackson’s grip on the counter was white-knuckled.

“If you’re about to tell me that there is already another one, I’m done! Fuck!” Boyd ended the call and Stiles threw his phone against the wall. He flinched when he heard the case crack.

“Another?” Stiles whipped around to Jackson, ready to bite his head off when the wolf just simply raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, Stilinski! What’re you gonna do? Annoy me to death? Just tell me what Boyd said and stop with the Hulk impression.”

“You are such a brat, Jackson!”

“Yeah, yeah love you too, now tell me!” It was the urgency in Jackson’s tone that made Stiles relent. He was worried and barely disguising it.

“A girl who just adopted a dog at the clinic was found in the parking lot, same symbols. Boyd found her when he was going to pick up Scott.”

“Lydia is good?”

“Yeah, she had a dream about it but couldn’t remember the details…”

“So, what are we gonna do?”

“We figure this out.” Stiles said, determinedly. “I have around two hundred different interpretations of those symbols. I won’t stop until I find what’s doing this.” He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, Jackson on his heels. They both grabbed the literature and sketches and online prints and started to work. Around five hours in they had at least found a common denominator.

Catholic. Those symbols were definitely catholic. Lydia joined them not shortly after, which helped narrowing it down further. When Allison mailed them a scan of the post mortem, Stiles was not surprised. It looked identical to the other four.

As far as Stiles could see, those symbols were part of a demonic ritual, a summoning if he was not sorely mistaken. Why anyone would try to summon a demon was beyond him though. Now, it was all about figuring out two things: a) who was doing it and b) which demon he was trying to summon. While Stiles needed that killer at least behind bars for killing innocents, he really wanted to know which demon they would have to battle if he succeeded.

So far, the only thing obvious was that it had to be one of the Knights of Hell. Unfortunately, there was a lot of them.

And they all looked fairly similar to each other.

* * *

The sixth victim showed up right on schedule and Stiles’ frustration level was hitting new lows. The pack was on edge, the Sheriff almost never home. Parrish and Deaton were running in circles. This time, Isaac was the unfortunate who was on Stiles-duty.

So, when Lydia’s call came, Isaac jumped up from the couch and hid himself in the kitchen, presumably with the batch of cookies Boyd had brought over.

A father.

A father of three young kids who was all around mediocre in the best sense possible. Friendly, a good neighbour who brought treats every holiday season and who stayed at home because he wanted his wife to have a chance at exploring her career chances and didn’t fault her for that. And now he was dead. Stiles hated that such a good and kind person had been taken. Always the good ones. His heart broke not only for the man but for his family.

* * *

The seventh came a day later. This time, Stiles was prepared. He knew it was coming and was sitting on hot charcoals the whole day until nine in the evening when the Sheriff came in, looking exhausted and angry.

“Ex-alcoholic. Hit a kid on his bike while driving drunk-“ Stiles wanted to snort and say karma was a bitch but then his Dad continued.

“Turned his life around after that. The kid wasn’t injured just a few flesh wounds but he paid for every bill and the physician. Then he went into rehab and has been sober for nine years, volunteering in the rehab centre to help others.”

Oh. Talk about redemption. For some reason, Stiles would have preferred that man to be an asshole.

Maybe then, his death wouldn’t feel that painful.

* * *

When the eight day came, Lydia was sitting on her couch with the whole pack assembled around her. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. It all went by without a vision or a phone call. Neither of them wanted to hope. Tension hung in the air, thick enough to cut.

The clock hit eleven, eleven thirty.

And then it hit midnight.

And no one was dead.

The morgue was empty, the police officers were home with their families, Deaton was in his office doing his actual job instead of looking for clues on corpses. It was strange. Stiles hadn’t realised how badly he had wished for the seventh victims to be the last one until no eighth call came.

He didn’t dare hope it was over.

* * *

_He passed the sign marking Beacon Hills. The air of the night was cold and biting into every pore. He was used to much warmer climate. The houses on the side of the road where nice, objectively. Now, where was this daring soldier that had done him such a remarkable favour? He distinctly remembered the man’s voice praying to him about one thing or the other. He would have to remember what it was he had promised the lad._

_A woman? Money?_

_It was always one or the other. Once he reached the centre of the town, he stopped, breathing in deeply before lifting his arms over his head. Flames burned in his eyes when they appeared. One after the other greeted him with a bow, some were almost down on the ground in their haste to salute. He motioned for them to stand up straight. They would wreak havoc in this town._

_With a flick of his wrist, seven shadows disappeared into the night._

_He chuckled._

_This was just the beginning…_


	2. Gluttony (Gula) "Give me more, more, more..."

_“Once you feed your hunger, you will understand the depth of your starvation…”_

__

Keys in one hand, two bags of food in the other and his phone clamped dangerously between his shoulder and his ear Stiles tried and failed to open the door to the loft. Just when he was about to push, the door opened and he fell over. Two strong hands grabbed him before he hit the ground.

“You could have called, you know. Or rang the doorbell…” Derek’s amused voice greeted him while Stiles tried to tell Lydia to calm down where she was threatening to sue her the newbie at her hairdresser’s salon. Granted, the guy had almost cut off five inches of her hair that she specifically hadn’t wanted him to. Or something like that. Sometimes, Stiles wondered, why he was even bothered with such things.

“Why ring when I have a key? Using the key makes it feel so-“ The word intimate had been on the tip of his tongue. Stiles had reigned it in just in time. That was not why Derek had given him a key to the loft.

“Makes it feel so…?” Derek asked while freeing Stiles of the bags and unpacking them in the kitchen. Stiles’ heart did not jump at the delighted sound Derek made when he saw the bag of apple chips Stiles had bought just for him. They were his favourite after all and who was Stiles to deny him?

“Huh? Oh- yeah, makes it feel like pack…” That was always a safe choice to go with, not a lie, not the truth but something in-between that Derek’s ears wouldn’t pick up.

“That’s- that’s good…” Stiles was so busy staring at the ground that the red tinge on Derek’s cheeks didn’t register.

“Isaac here already?” He asked to ease the weird tension between them. Derek shook his head and handed Stiles one of the apples he had been eyeing while heating up the oven. It had become a pattern over the last year for them to cook together and Stiles loved spending time with the Sourwolf, for entirely innocent reasons, of course.

“Did you buy the-“ But Stiles had already flung the cinnamon rolls at him. He had contemplated getting cookies too but decided Derek’s sweet tooth didn’t need to be encouraged any more than it already was. The look Derek shot the sweets was nothing short of adorable and Stiles had trouble keeping that thought to himself. He didn’t feel like seeing the pity on Derek’s face once he realised how head over heels he was for the man.

Isaac came barrelling in half an hour later, looking shifty, something he hadn’t done for a long time now. Stiles dismissed it as him having a bad day. If Isaac ate double the amount of his usual, nobody mentioned it. Only when he cuddled up to Stiles on the couch, refusing to let go whenever Stiles wanted to stand up, did Stiles exchange a worried glance with Derek. The Alpha shrugged but the scowl on his forehead deepened, his eyebrows raised a bit.

“That guy came into the diner today- and he was like that dude from the movie? You know the slim one? And he ordered like a bunch of stuff-“ Isaac was telling them about a strange encounter he had had today but Stiles wasn’t really paying attention. The light hit Derek’s eyes just right, making them almost glow in the dimly lit loft. He was just human, okay?

And Derek was-

“Stiles! You’re not listening!” Isaac complained and pulled at Stiles’ sleeve.

“The dude must have been seriously hungry- the waitress- Sara, I think?- yeah, Sara- she asked him if he was sure but he ate all of it and when he walked out he like stopped in front of me? And it was so weird- he touched my shoulder and-“

“He touched your shoulder?” Stiles rolled his eyes at the low growl in Derek’s voice.

“Not like that.” Isaac said before continuing “I don’t know- I mean, it was weird but not in a bad way- I just- I didn’t really think about it because then Sara brought my burger and I was so hungry all of a sudden- I ordered a second one after ‘cause it was so good- Stiles, you need to get one there too, their fries are…” Stiles tuned out again. It didn’t sound like anything that needed closer inspection. Derek though was still brooding over the fact that someone had touched his precious. Not like Derek was interested in Isaac in any way beyond familial but he didn’t take too kindly to people getting too close to the pup.

Stiles guessed it had to do with the Alpha instinct: protect and defend. It was good for both of them, he figured. Derek had someone he could care for and Isaac had someone to rely on, who only wanted the best for him. Stiles smiled to himself at the realisation, warmth filled his belly. It was nice, to sit here among them and listen to them talk like brothers.

They both deserved this so much.

“Stiles?” Huh. Derek was staring at him with something between concern, amusement and something that made Stiles’ heart ache.

“I’m good- sorry.”

“No-“ Derek was quick to say “I just- you were looking so- you looked happy…” Derek’s shoulders climbed up to his ears and Stiles’ smile broadened.

“That’s cause I am.” Stiles admitted, watching the beaming grin on Isaac’s face and the tentative smile on Derek’s.

* * *

Two days later, Stiles sat in his room brooding over the essay he still had to finish when a knock on the door ripped him out of his concentration. His Dad came in, both hands holding a burger that was most certainly not Stiles-approved.

“We talked about this-“ Stiles was prepared to launch into a full-blown rant but his father waved him off.

“It’s cheat day. Anyway, that’s not why I came in here. There’s a body at the morgue-“ Stiles’ heart stopped. Not again. Fuck. He had been so sure that the seventh victim had been the last of them.

“Son?” The Sheriff grabbed his face, forced him to look at him. “Listen to me. It’s not like the others. This one wasn’t stabbed, there were no symbols. It’s not starting again.”

It took a minute before the words registered. Stiles fell back against his chair, that he had finally replaced, breathing in a sigh of relief.

“Sorry.” His Dad said sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Then you should have started with: Listen, this is completely unrelated but there is another body in the morgue!” Stiles snapped at him. He really was on edge lately.

“So what’s so special about this one?”

“Well-“ His father hesitated for a second “He died of overconsumption.”

“He died of what?” Stiles was sure he hadn’t heard that right.

“The guy overate. Bought twenty bags of chips and just kept eating, drinking too. And then he just-“ The motion the Sheriff made with his hand to illustrate, what had likely been, a disgusting scenery had Stiles shiver. This wasn’t normal, now, was it?

“I didn’t know you could do that…” he mused. His father shrugged his shoulders and resumed eating his burger.

“Seriously? At least eat that somewhere I can’t see. I don’t need to know you’re cheating on your diet, Dad.”

“Just today, promise!” With that, he left the room and Stiles in a confused state.

* * *

Stiles was in the shower, singing his favourite song and cursing when shampoo got into his eyes, when he heard his phone ring. His first instinct was to jump out and race to his desk, where he remembered putting the device, but thought better of it. The tiles were a hazard when dry, he didn’t want to test them when wet.

After finishing in the shower, he called Derek back. He sincerely hoped, the Alpha hadn’t called because there was another problem that needed taking care of.

Once Derek greeted him, Stiles felt his heartrate pick up a pace. He pressed his hand against his chest to calm down.

“Hi, Derek.” Smooth, Stilinski. Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. Why did this man get him so flustered? It was literally just a phone call, he wasn’t even in the room. Well, thank fuck for that or Stiles’ face would have borne more resemblance to a tomato than he was comfortable with.

“I was just wondering if you-“ one of those meaningful pauses Stiles had learned to hate over the past few years.

“If you wanted to go out with me tonight?” Stiles’ brain short circuited. Go out with Derek?

“There is this Italian restaurant you mentioned and I thought we could give it a try?” He was unable to contribute to this conversation at the moment. His brain needed a minute to comprehend what was happening.

“You don’t have to- I can ask someone else, I just thought- you mentioned driving by and it looking nice. So, I thought…”

“No- I- I’d love to go with you!” Stiles finally blurted out.

“Pick you up at six?”

“Hm hm,” was the only answer Stiles was capable of giving. It didn’t take more than five minutes before he had called the emergency protocol.

* * *

Lydia rushed in with too many bags to be considered normal- even for her-, followed by Erica nearly glowing with glee and Allison looking exhausted but amused. Stiles recapped what had happened and watched Lydia sort through the pile of clothes that she had somehow fitted into those bags.

Small miracles, really. Or, in other words, he had learned not to question the genius that was Lydia Martin.

“Date night! Date night!” Erica screeched into his ear after hugging him forcefully. She seemed to forget sometimes, how human he was, especially in contrast to her crushing strength.

“It’s not a date.” Stiles said. Yes, he had considered it to be one in the beginning too, but after thinking it through, he had reached the conclusion that Derek had just asked him to do their usual dinner.

Maybe he just wanted to help Stiles take his mind off things by taking him to a restaurant out of town. 

“Of course, it’s a date, silly.” Lydia scolded while holding up two dark blue shirts that were both vetoed out by Allison.

“Scott thinks so too,” the huntress helpfully provided.

“It’s not a date. We do dinner every other week.” He felt like he needed to stress this.

“Does he call ahead of time for those too? Offers to pick you up and take you to that specific restaurant you mentioned maybe like once?” There were days when he hated the sly tone Erica used whenever she thought, she was onto something.

“No, but-“

“Try this one!” A maroon-coloured shirt was shoved into his hands that looked impossibly tight.

“I haven’t got all day, Stilinski. You called us for a reason. So, get your butt in gear and change.” He raised his hands in surrender and did as he was told.

The shirt fit quite well, now that he thought about it. The jeans though, were definitely on the tight side. But they hugged his ass in a way that made it look perky and he could still move and sit comfortably, so he decided to just wear them. Wouldn’t do him any good to fight Lydia- who had been adamant, he’d wear them- over it. Pick your battles, his father had always advised.

“Remember- no garlic bread, no matter how delicious it looks. Maybe go with pasta. And don’t forget to-“ But Stiles would never know what he shouldn’t forget because that was the moment Erica shushed Allison and ushered them out.

Derek rang the doorbell barely two minutes later. Stiles nearly drooled when he saw what Derek was wearing. It made him cross his arms over his chest in a sudden rush of self-consciousness.

God, did he have to look so good? The Alpha had chosen a green Henley- no surprise there- that matched his eyes perfectly and sinfully tight jeans with a leather jacket.

“Ready?” Derek opened the door of the Camaro for him, a soft smile on his face when Stiles stumbled and grabbed him as to not faceplant into the car.

“Careful…” he mumbled before closing the door to round the car. Stiles’ heart threatened to beat out of his chest at the realisation that: _Holy Shit, this is a date!_

* * *

A guy in a tux greeted them at the entry where Derek promptly explained they had a reservation under Hale for 6.30.

Stiles gaped the whole way to the table in a more secluded area behind some lovely plants that separated the individual tables from each other. Even the décor on the table was delicately improving the overall impression, especially in combination with the dimmed lights. For a brief moment, Stiles felt out of place. Then he remembered that Lydia had hand-picked his wardrobe.

The thought had a calming effect.

“Do you know what you want?” Stiles looked up, a little startled, and found Derek staring at him with dark eyes. He fumbled with his collar, the implication of the question heating up his cheeks.

“I’ll take the Pasta Rosso, thanks…” he handed the waiter the menu, completely botching the pronunciation.

“I’ll have the Pizza Verdura con melanzana e addizionale una Insalata Rucolina grande.” Stiles couldn’t help the shiver running down his spine when he listened to Derek talk Italian in that accent.

“Didn’t know you speak Italian…” he mumbled once the waiter had left. Derek grinned and told him that his mother’s side of the family had some roots in Italy.

“So, you’re fluent?”

“No- I can read it and can hold a conversation but no- I’m not fluent…”

Stiles couldn’t resist. “Tell me something in Italian then!”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Derek’s cheeks were flushed. Derek seemed to think for a moment, then he leaned over the table until their noses were almost touching. Stiles was suddenly very hot. He switched between staring at Derek and looking anywhere but the handsome Alpha in front of him.

“I tuoi occhi sembrano pietre preziose, come topazi. Amo il colore della tua maglietta, ti sta così bene. Stai cercando di sedurmi?” His voice had gone breathy at the end, letting a shiver run down Stiles' spine even though he had no idea what Derek had said to him. The word "occhi" struck a nerve though, dimly reminding him of the Spanish equivalent for eyes. He longed to ask for a translation but felt like Derek wouldn't give him one. 

The light hit Derek’s teeth, making them glisten and impossibly white. Stiles wanted to close the distance between them, press his lips against Derek’s.

“Pasta Rosso?”

At the voice of the waiter they snapped back to their former sitting position, an acceptable distance away. Stiles forced himself to breathe in deeply to get his heart beat under control. Derek studied his own plate like it held the most interesting pizza he had ever seen. Tension hung in the air around them uncomfortably. To break it, Stiles attempted to get back to the light-hearted conversations they usually held when eating out together.

Why was this so hard all of a sudden?

“So, what did you say to me? I think there was something about eyes in it? Or not? I don’t know- I don’t even know Spanish anymore…” He really should have paid more attention in school. At the time, he hadn’t been into learning a new language but when Derek talked in Italian…

“Just some nonsense. Really, I don’t even think it was grammatically correct…” Derek shrugged it off. Stiles paused with the fork raised to his mouth. Derek was flustered, embarrassed even. It didn’t take a genius to realise that whatever he said, it was certainly not nothing. He made a note to ask Lydia to translate.

She knew Italian, right?

“How’s your pizza? Enough vegetables on it for you?” Stiles needed a change of subject. Derek picked up a tomato and shoved it in his mouth, grinning petulantly around it so that Stiles saw the red peel getting caught on his teeth.

“Honestly, if I didn’t know you’re a wolf, I’d suspect you were a were-rabbit.” Derek raised an eyebrow at that.

“Were-rabbit? Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously! The salad? The pizza? And don’t even get me started on the-“

“I just like eating healthy…”

Oh and wasn’t that adorable. The Big Bad Alpha was pouting.

“Does that mean you have to turn into a rabbit? I mean, don’t get me wrong- bunnies are sweet and all, but I think I prefer the Big Bad wolf.”

“You do?” Derek leaned over, a glim in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Because I remember a time when you were so scared of me that you had me arrested. And let me tell you those handcuffs weren’t exactly comfortable.” His voice was low, almost a rasp.

“F-for good reason. I thought you were a murderer.”

“But you still helped save me, now why is that…” Stiles didn’t know how to breathe. Derek was too close, that earthy smell of wood and rain heavily coating his nostrils.

“I couldn’t let you die…”

“Hm, would have been convenient though…”

“No-“ he cleared his throat. “No, I wouldn’t have let you die that day- you helped Scott- it was only fair-“

“Was that the only reason?” Since when did Derek behave like this? Stiles had never seen this side of him.

“Yes-“ Stiles felt his blood pound in his veins.

Derek’s eyes narrowed. He deliberately let his gaze wander down to were Stiles’ heart was attempting to jump out of his chest. The corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smirk.

“Lie.”

****

**_Crash._ **

****

Stiles whipped around. The couple on the table to his right had dropped a plate to the ground. Just before he turned back to Derek, he stopped. The guy was picking up the food from the floor and shoving it in his mouth. His date had her fingers in the noodles, greedily eating more and more of it.

“What are they doing?” The dark rumble had gone from Derek’s voice. Stiles bemoaned its disappearance.

They watched the waiter approach the pair and discreetly asking them to leave. Stiles thought, while they were gathering their things and still trying to eat what was left on the table, that their behaviour was odd. The guy was dressed in a tux and had an expansive-looking watch on his wrist. He didn’t strike him as the type to eat something that had been on the floor.

“That was strange…” Derek mused but resumed eating. Stiles wasn’t so lucky. His appetite had vanished. He had this feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong here. He managed to eat half his pasta but didn’t even taste a thing.

Derek asked him twice if everything was alright but Stiles didn’t have an answer for him. He was deep in thoughts when the check came, so he only realised that Derek had paid the whole bill when they were halfway back in town.

“Wait a minute- did you pay my half too? Derek, we’ve talked about this! I can pay for my own dinner!” How many times did they have this discussion already?

“I invited you. It was my treat.” Did he have to be so stubborn all the time?

“Derek- you can’t just pay for me…”

“Why not? I like-“ He immediately stopped talking. Stiles shot him a glance from his seat.

“You like…?”

“Nothing.” He saw Derek clench his teeth and work his jaw. That was not a good sign.

“Derek-“

“No!” The Alpha snapped at him. Stiles shrunk back against the seat. He hadn’t intended to anger the wolf.

Derek breathed in and said, in much calmer voice: “Listen: I invited you out, I wanted to pay. So, can you just say thank you and be done with it? Just this once?” Stiles nodded courtly. He wasn’t okay with that but didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Did you like your pizza?” he asked and watched Derek’s grip on the steering wheel relax.

“Yes. But you didn’t finish your pasta. Didn’t you like it?” Stiles tried to explain the feeling of unease that had overcome him at the sight of the couple but Derek waved him off.

“It’s just- it’s like I’m missing something. Like there’s something I’m not getting.” It was frustrating. In the back of his mind an inner voice kept screaming at him to remember what it was that had triggered him so much but he couldn’t for the life of him figure it out.

“They were just strange. That doesn’t always mean there’s something more going on- maybe we’re just a bit-“

“A bit paranoid?” Stiles said. He had thought the same thing once or twice. But every time he had, it turned out his suspicions had been very much on point. Derek shook his head, still concentrated on the road and getting them home safely but Stiles saw the uptick in his jaw.

“I just wanted this to be a normal evening, you know? Just the two of us enjoying our dinner- no bodies, or swimming pools, or hunters.” Stiles could agree with that; however, he could not ignore his instinct.

“I don’t think any of those gives a damn whether you like their timing or not…” He murmured.

“No, unfortunately not.” They lapsed into tense silence after that. The ride didn’t take that long and before he knew it, Derek was rolling up to his front door.

“I had fun tonight.” Stiles offered, suddenly unsure as to what to say. His earlier excitement had been dampened by the incident in the restaurant.

“Me too- Stiles?”

“Hm?” Stiles was focussed on fumbling with his keys, so he missed the way Derek’s eyebrows went up to his hairline.

“I-“ Stiles looked at him. It wasn’t like Derek to stutter that much. He was still contemplating what was going on, when Derek’s next sentence registered.

“It was nice hanging out with you…” The pain that shot through him at the words was nothing short of blinding. Hanging out. Not a date then. He should have known.

“Yeah, thanks for the invite…” Stiles refrained from running to his room and away from the situation. He had thought, for a short blissful moment, that Derek had flirted with him in the restaurant. But, for all he knew, he had just recited the menu to him.

“Stiles?” He was halfway out the door, the blood rushing loudly in his ears and drowning out the sound of his laboured breathing.

“Is everything alright?” God, now he sounded concerned. Fuck. Stiles needed to get out of here before Derek realised why he was behaving like that.

“Yup. Peachy.”

“You smell odd-“ Great. Always with the smelling. He closed the passenger door and rounded the car to get to the porch.

“Stiles? Did you not- did I do something?”

“No- fuck, Derek, no. I’m just a bit spooked, is all.” Lie. Lie. Lie. And from the look on Derek’s face, he knew that too.

“I’m sorry. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. I just thought- the two of us- I like spending time with you…” The gall was rising in Stiles’ throat. He needed to breathe. Why did this hurt so much? He knew Derek didn’t like him like that. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“You are my best friend…” That was it. The final straw. Stiles ripped his door open, threw a quick “Goodbye” and “You too” over his shoulder and ran up to his room.

_Best friend._

Derek’s best friend.

He wished he could be that for Derek. He really wished he could.

* * *

“Stiles- slow down, please. I can’t keep up.” Stiles wasn’t proud to admit that he was currently sobbing into the receiver with Lydia on the other end.

“He-“ Stiles hiccupped “he said I’m his best friend…”

“But that’s a good thing.”

“No- it means-“ He realised upon drawing in a shaky breath that needed to calm down.

“It means, it wasn’t a date- he doesn’t want-“ His shoulders trembled violently, tears burned in his eyes.

“You don’t know that. He didn’t say, he doesn’t want to date you. He just said-“

“That we are friends!”

“You _are_ friends!” Lydia stressed, seemingly stating the obvious that Stiles refused to accept.

“I want to be more than that…” Stiles whispered, hands clutching his shoulder so that he had something to hold onto.

“I want to be more than friends…” Lydia sighed on the other end of the call but it didn’t sound exasperated.

“Then talk to him.” As if it were that easy. It would ruin everything.

“I can’t. He doesn’t want me and if I tell him I want him like that, he’ll feel guilty- and- and”

“Stiles, calm down! Sweety, please, you need to breathe!” Stiles counted to seven in his head before releasing a brush of air from his lungs. He repeated the action four more times until he could answer.

A little more calmly, he said: “He’ll feel guilty that he doesn’t want me like that and that’s going to ruin our friendship.”

“But you don’t want to be friends anyway…”

“I do! Better that than nothing!” Stiles said with conviction.

“Stiles…”

“No, it’s okay- I’ll just-“ But he didn’t know what to do or how to handle this. The thought of seeing Derek at the next pack meeting made his skin crawl.

“If you really want that, you need to find a way to keep calm when he’s there and try to get over it.” Stiles suppressed a sob. His heart raced at the mere thought of seeing Derek again and having him look at Stiles with pity in those beautiful eyes.

“I need some time…”

“I understand that. But you still need to tell him something.”

“Why?”

“Because he called Erica on the way home and asked if there was something wrong with you because you were smelling so sad.” Every word felt like knife twisting in his chest. That god damn idiot. Couldn’t he at least have the decency to behave like an asshole so that Stiles would get over it faster? Did he have to be so concerned?

“I don’t know what to say to him…” He hated asking for advice.

“Since you don’t want to tell him the truth…” She paused briefly “just say you weren’t feeling well, that the last week was exhausting and you overreacted.” Stiles contemplated for a minute but didn’t have a better idea.

“I won’t tell you getting over him is going to be easy, but I know you can do it. Just-“ He heard her draw a breath on her end.

“Just don’t hurt yourself more than necessary, okay? Call me- if it gets bad! Promise me, Stiles!” She knew how badly he took rejection and how hard he made it on himself. It helped Stiles breathe more freely, knowing she would support him, no matter what.

“Promise.”

* * *

**_Hey Sourwolf, just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, I overreacted earlier. Dinner was great._ **

Stiles looked at the text critically before hitting send. It sounded sincere, if a bit lacking his usual snark. Not a minute later, his phone beeped, signalling an incoming text.

_**Don’t apologise. I just want to know if you are okay?** _

Stiles smiled sadly to himself. That, right there, was the reason, why Derek had become such an important person to him over the years. He didn’t care for platitudes or quick apologies. It had been such a long time since someone had seen through his façade and had bothered to ask. He didn’t fault Scott or Jackson, or any of the pack really, for not realising how bad his moods could get, because he himself had invented his poker face exactly so that they wouldn’t. It hadn’t worked with Derek yet. This time, though, he really needed Derek to just turn a blind eye to the situation.

**_Just stressed. Last week kinda felt like rollercoaster and it’s like I’m still in for the ride._ **

Stiles tried to slow down his breathing and his racing heart but neither worked. Derek’s text came shortly after, making him jump despite him waiting for it.

_**If there is something I can do, tell me! I don’t like the idea of you not feeling well.** _

He bit his lip as tears burned in his eyes. The longing hit him full force, followed by that dull ache he still tried to control.

**_Nah. Just need a good night’s sleep. See ya, Sourwolf_ **

Maybe tomorrow it wouldn’t hurt so much. He just needed some time away from Derek.

**_Sleep well, Stiles_ **

He tried desperately to stop the tears from falling. When another wave of pain hit, he shoved his fist in his mouth and bit his knuckles to stop the sob that had bubbled in his throat. He just wanted to sleep, to lie down and not think about Derek and his soft smile.

* * *

Isaac shoved him into the booth with much more force than Stiles thought necessary because he was so eager to get his hands on the burgers. Stiles remained seated instead of walking right back out again. Couldn’t disappoint the pup. Even if he didn't feel like going out at all. 

“Scott said to order already, he’s still looking for a parking spot.” Stiles was informed by the curly head, while he was studying the menu of the diner that did indeed look promising.

“What is it with you and burgers lately?” Stiles asked once he saw three different burgers piled up on Isaac’s plate.

“Don’t know…” He managed to say around a bite of mushroom patty that Stiles eyed curiously.

“I’m just really hungry…”

“Yeah, I got that-“ Considering how Isaac had been brought up, it fit. Still, he hadn’t been eating this much since- no, Stiles realised- Isaac hadn’t been eating this much ever. Rather the contrary.

Scott had caught him hiding snacks in his room because he had been so scared of running out of food. If Coach Lahey hadn’t been dead by then, Stiles would have paid him a visit. He was kind of disappointed he hadn’t gotten the chance to. But he slept better at night, knowing that asshole was out of Isaac’s life and- if Karma existed- rotting in hell.

“Do you wanna eat that?” Isaac asked, bringing out the puppy eyes he undoubtedly had learned from Scott. Speaking of which, where was his best friend? Just when he was about to ask, completely disregarding the look Isaac shot Stiles’ curly fries, Scott barrelled in.

“Did you- ah yes…” He fell down on his seat and grabbed his plate that Stiles had ordered for him.

“Dude!” Scott exclaimed after taking the first bite. “That is awesome!” Stiles grinned at the smile on Scott’s face that made him look even more adorable.

“So… you _do_ wanna eat that?” Isaac asked for what felt like the tenth time. Stiles was getting rather annoyed with it. Yes, he wanted to eat his fries, was that not permissible? Scott took pity on the wolf and offered him his side dish- sweet potatoes if Stiles wasn’t mistaken. He wanted to protest and scold Scott for not knowing that Isaac hated sweet potatoes with a passion, when the Beta cleared the plate in about two seconds flat.

“Isaac?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” There was something off about this but Stiles couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Sure, why’re you asking?” The wolf seemed entirely unconcerned.

“Because you hate sweet potatoes!”

Seriously, was he having a stroke? The kid had thrown up when Derek had made a delicious sweet potato mash two months ago. Isaac stared at the plate then at Stiles, then back at the plate.

“I- I guess I don’t mind them?” But even Scott was paying attention now.

“You don’t mind them?”

“No…” Isaac looked highly uncomfortable.

“Are you still hungry?” Stiles asked, a feeling in his gut that had waited for days to come out and was now announcing its presence loudly. How could he have been so blind?

“Isaac!” The wolf sat up stiffly at the harsh tone. “Sorry- just- are you still hungry, do you still wanna eat my fries?” Isaac nodded and looked lost.

“How? Seriously dude, you ate three burgers, two sides of fries and my sweet potatoes. How are you still hungry?”

“I don’t know- it’s- I just need…”

“To eat.” Stiles concluded, his stomach turning. He was out of the booth before anyone could stop him

“I need to get home and look something up.” He turned to Scott, hoping to convey how important this was.

“Don’t let him eat anything else, okay?”

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott asked, a tremor in his voice that told Stiles clearly how scared he was.

“There was a body in the morgue- he- long story short- he ate so much that he died.” Isaac was pale, fiddling with the table cloth.

“I need to look this up- take care of him…” he gestured towards Isaac “and tell Derek to come over asap.”

With that, he turned heel and was out of the diner before either of them could protest.

* * *

The gas pedal creaked with how heavily Stiles was stepping on it. He reached his house in record time, ran up the stairs, jumped over the laundry basket he had left standing out in the middle of the hallway and ripped out his copy of roman culture and religion. His pulse was racing, his heart pounded in his ears. With clammy fingers, he skimmed the pages until finally, there it was. The information on the page made his head spin.

Everything clicked into place.

And Stiles wanted to vomit.

He didn’t know for how long he had been standing motionlessly in his room when the window was opened from the outside with a hollow creak that broke the deafening silence.

“Scott said you wanted to see me?” Stiles flinched a bit upon hearing his voice again. He had tried to prepare himself for seeing Derek but in the end, he had the same effect on Stiles he always had.

Only this time, Stiles knew for sure that his interest was completely one-sided. He needed to get a grip. This was serious business and no time for a broken heart. He remembered what Lydia had told him. Just play it cool, like nothing happened and be the friend Derek wanted him to be. And the one he deserved.

“You noticed Isaac behaving odd lately?” He asked instead of throwing all he had learned in, what must have been, the last fifteen minutes. Derek nodded but it looked hesitant.

“The craving?” Stiles added, almost as an afterthought, just to help Derek get with the idea.

“He just like the hamburgers a lot…” The Alpha mumbled but it sounded sheepish.

“No- Derek- that’s not what this is! He’s not just craving hamburgers. He ate Scott’s sweet potatoes!”

“What?”

“We were at that new diner and Isaac wanted my fries but I told him no and when Scott finally came in- he didn’t find a parking spot since apparently they don’t really give a damn if you have enough room for the guests to park their car but whatever- so he came in and offered Isaac his sweet potatoes and Isaac just ate them. And I asked him why he suddenly ate them and he just said, he didn’t mind. I mean come on! That kid nearly went to the ER after eating like a spoon full of your mash. That’s ridiculous. And he was still hungry after!” Stiles was out of breath once he stopped rambling.

Meanwhile, Derek’s eyebrows were climbing steadily up his forehead.

“Maybe he was just-“

“NO!” Stiles snapped and watched Derek jump.

“No- that’s what I’m trying to tell you! It’s not just a phase or a mood. It’s going round town. See- there’s this guy in the morgue my Dad told me about and guess what killed him?” When Derek shrugged, Stiles took pity on him and explained the situation.

“He overate.” Disappearing eyebrows and a look of utter confusion decorated Derek’s face.

“Overate? How can you overeat?”

“I don’t know but I looked it up and I have this book- you know, when we were going through the mythology section and there was this book about roman culture and Catholicism?” A nod was all the confirmation he got.

“Yeah, well, at first, I thought it was something unrelated but then I realised that I read something about overconsumption, food, sex, whatever, you name it. And I looked it up…” Derek stepped closer until he could see where Stiles was pointing at.

The symbol on top of the page matched the ones on the seven bodies that had been found. Stiles heard Derek take in a sharp breath.

“That’s- Stiles…”

“I know- I know, that’s why I called you.” He turned the page and gestured to the image embedded there.

_“It’s all connected.”_

* * *

The emergency meeting startled the pack and with good reason. They usually meant something new was out there to harm them in some way. As it turned out, this time was no different.

“Derek? What’s going on? I was getting my hair done at this new salon.”

“Oh, did you have Janine do your-“

Lydia was interrupted by Derek bellowing “Silence!” Stiles shot him a thankful smile and resumed his position by his side after getting the book from his bag.

“So- remember the symbols on the dead bodies last week?” As if any of them could forget.

“I know what they mean.” A collective gasp and a raised brow from Lydia encouraged him to keep going.

“They’re roman.” Eyeroll from both his favourite banshee and the dimpled huntress.

“They’re part of a summoning ritual. I didn’t find it at first because I didn’t look for that in the book. It’s not a rune or an independent symbol. It belongs to a group of demons- or creatures- that are summoned by sacrificing a human.”

“So, what are they?” Boyd asked, his voice calm but Stiles recognised the way the wolf drew his shoulders back as if preparing himself what was sure to be bad news.

“Sins.” Stiles said. The pack looked at each other, some confused, some uncomfortable.

“They are the seven deadly sins. And Isaac-“ the wolf in question sat up straight.

“Isaac met Gluttony.” Scott leaned over to murmur something into Allison’s ear that Stiles didn’t catch but that Erica cuffed him over the head for. He glanced at Derek who shook his head, a clear sign to ignore it.

“You said there was this guy in the diner, a slim one, who touched you and then you suddenly started craving food.” He paused to confirm this was indeed what had happened and that he hadn’t misunderstood.

“I think he’s the one wreaking havoc right now. He’s the first of the sins, the tamest one and he triggers it- like all of them do- by touching people.”

“But why? Who summoned them and why are they here? What do they want?” Came an onslaught of questions from Lydia that Stiles had no answers for.

“I don’t know that yet- the book only explains what they are.”

“But Gluttony is the only one so far- so, how come, you think the others are running around somewhere here too?”

Stiles was glad that this was a question he could answer. At least so that the pack had something to work with.

“The sacrifices. There were seven- one for each sin. The judge was for Gluttony.”

“But why? He wasn’t corpulent or constantly eating. He didn’t die of obesity.” Jackson piped up. Stiles wanted to congratulate him for that line of thought. Quite the brain, that one, Stiles thought to himself. If he only used it more often.

“That’s the catch. They’re not just any victims. It has to be a specific order, in a specific time frame-“

“Seven days, seven sins…” Allison mumbled.

“Yes. But that’s not all.” Stiles placed the book where everyone could see.

“The judge was balanced. He didn’t crave food, he had a family, he was happy. Hell, what better sacrifice than a judge? He’s kinda the pendant for temperance.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ah Scotty. Sometimes, Stiles really asked himself how the crooked jawed wolf wasn’t dead already. He really needed to step up his game. Or read a book.

“Temperance, Scott.” When he was met with not one but seven confused looks, he took back his critique upon realising that none of them- save from Lydia- had any idea what he was talking about.

“It’s a heavenly virtue. The one that conquers Gluttony. If you constantly crave food you need balance to even it out. He was the poster child for temperance.”

“The student-“ Scott whispered and Stiles felt like the blinders had come off.

“Asexual, virgin- for chastity. The heavenly virtue for Lust.”

“The police officer?” Derek asked.

“Hard work. For Sloth.”

“The priest!” Isaac suddenly spoke up, sounding excited. Stiles could sympathise. It felt great to finally have a lead to figuring out the puzzle.

“For Envy?” Allison concluded but Stiles shook his head.

“No, that’s the father.” he offered.

“So, what’s the priest for, then?”

“Humility. For Pride.”

“And the girl who adopted the dog the other day- she was…” Scott skimmed the pages “she was Charity. For Greed.”

“That leaves the alcoholic with Wrath.” Jackson said. He sounded slightly choked up. Stiles tried to ask if he was okay just by staring at him but the wolf refused to look up.

“So that means everyone can be infected by each of them? What if we are already?”

“No-“ Stiles hurried to say “I think it’s more of a pre-existing trait. Like Isaac-“ he stopped, suddenly not sure if exposing the Beta in such a way was necessary. Isaac seemed to sense his conflict and nodded his consent to continue.

“Isaac was always eating either too much or not enough. Even before. It only triggered what was already there.” It hurt, that much was clear on the blond’s face.

“So, how do we stop it?”

“You need to overcome it. Like the first victim did. You need to learn temperance.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I think- I think it’s something to do with your Dad and-“ He hated having to say those words and watch the shadow fall on Isaac’s face, clouding his features.

“My father’s dead. He’s got nothing to do with it!” Isaac replied, a bit more bite in his voice than was strictly necessary.

“That’s not what he was saying…” Derek cut in. “Can you guys give us a minute?” he addressed the pack and pulled Stiles back when he turned to leave with them. Stiles tried not to freak out at the burning sensation Derek’s hand sent through his arm.

He could do this.

For Isaac.

They sat on the couch on either side of Isaac, who looked a little pale around the nose.

“It’s just- how can he still influence me that much? I thought, I was over that- I need to be over that!”

“What you need is to think about your health and mental well-being. I can-“ Derek stopped and Stiles saw him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I can contact my therapist- if you want. She’s- she helped me a lot when Laura and I were on the run.” Stiles’ heart clenched when Derek’s voice caught on his sister’s name.

“That- that would be great, thanks.” They were barely relaxing when Derek’s ears twitched and his eyes locked on Isaac’s rib cage. Heart beat frequency increasing, Stiles read from that look.

Suddenly, he jumped up and started pacing.

“I just don’t get it! I mean, I know I have trouble eating but what I don’t get is why! Why can I not just eat like normal people do? I always- when you brought those cookies I had to stop myself from hiding them in the closet like I did with the chips.” To Derek, this evidently was new information. To Stiles, not so much.

“Because you always think it’ll be gone when you don’t. You think that if you don’t hide it, then you won’t have any to eat when you’re hungry.” Stiles breathed in to centre himself before saying what had been on his mind since he had come to know Isaac as a friend.

“Your father starved you, more than once. So, you overcompensate whenever you get the chance. Even if you consciously know that Derek would never do that, your unconscious needs to be prepared for the possibility.” Stiles had wished to avoid this talk, couldn’t even look at either of them while saying it.

“I would never-“ Derek started, his face expressing clearly, how horrified he was by even the idea.

Isaac was quick to interrupt: “I know that!”

“That’s why he got to you so easily, why it triggered you and not Scott or me.” Isaac seemed deep in thoughts, then he handed Derek his phone. Stiles noticed how his hands were shaking.

“Give me the number?” The wolf’s voice sounded broken, a tremor ran through him.

* * *

The pack meeting had dissolved quickly after that since no one had an inkling as to where the culprit was located or how to kill him. Scott had asked Allison to contact her father and see if there are any weapons he declared fit to kill a sin with. Stiles had reinforced his point that they were not only macabre ideas but demons made of flesh and blood.

It was almost midnight when Chris called, sounding calmly frantic, which was an impressive mixture. He gave Stiles the coordinates of a bar where three people had been in need for the ER after eating masses of food.

Stiles was already halfway down the stairs when he activated the telephone chain.

On the way, he was nearly run over by Jackson’s Porsche, spotting not only Lydia but Scott on the backseat. Stiles raced after them, screeching to a halt once they reached their destination. Not five minutes later the Camaro parked beside the Jeep and the rest of the pack climbed out- Allison had stayed with her father and was monitoring the victims at the ER.

Derek opened the door to the bar and Stiles felt the whole pack hold their breaths. Inside was chaos. People were screaming at their partners to stop eating, while they shoved food into their mouths so fast Stiles wanted to puke.

This was disgusting.

And in the midst of all of those people yelling bloody murder and ripping others away from their plates stood a slim man in a button-down and nipped at a Martini. Anger cursed through Stiles’ veins, his fingers held tightly onto his bat.

He didn’t need Isaac to recognise the man to know it was him. The amused grin on his face, the absolute calm in the face of danger- all of those were dead giveaways.

The guy swirled his beverage with his ring finger and Stiles wanted to bash his skull for looking so arrogant. Then he noticed the ring on said finger and gestured for Derek to pay attention.

The wolf turned his head just when Isaac fell into motion. No one had time to react before the guy whipped around and caught Isaac’s claw before it could slice his chest open. Stiles was frozen on the spot, heart down in his knees. He knew, they needed to help Isaac but it was as if they couldn’t move.

“Ah the little wolf…” The atmosphere in the room seemed to spark like electricity when he spoke, voice like gravel and booming loud even though he spoke quietly. He was not the least bit concerned, not the least bit threatened. Stiles hissed through his teeth as he watched Isaac struggled against his hold. Gluttony placed his drink on the bar and turned to the pack slowly.

“Such a lovely pack.” He inclined his head towards Derek “And what an Alpha you are. Almost as if you were made for this…”

The hairs on Stiles’ neck rose at the words- they sounded like a threat.

“Let him go!” Derek’s voice matched the demon’s in intensity, even though he too couldn’t move.

“Where is the fun in that?” He gestured for the waiter, Stiles hadn’t seen standing there. The poor guy put a plate in front of Isaac, full of junk food, potato mash, rice. It was ridiculous how piled up the food was.

Gluttony shoved Isaac’s face down and ordered: “Eat.”

Stiles stared at Isaac, saw his jaw work and prayed with all his might that the wolf could resist. One bite and he was undoubtedly lost. Stiles didn’t want to imagine how badly he must have felt the influence of the sin on his shoulder, pressing him down.

“I said: eat!” The command was strong enough to reach Stiles where he was standing and he saw Scott make an aborted movement towards a plate close to him as if he was affected too.

And then everything happened incredibly fast. Stiles had barely had time to see the uptick in Isaac’s lips before the wolf whirled around, a fork in hand and pushed it deep into Gluttony’s eye. The man let go, screaming so loudly glass burst everywhere around them. Isaac shoved the guy away, watched him scramble for something to hold onto and held him up by the collar.

“There are others! I’m only the first! You’ll never win against us you scum of the earth. You were made to sin!” His voice had turned to something high and screeching, almost inhuman.

They were face to face. Stiles watched with satisfaction when Isaac leaned in and snarled: “You talk too much!”

The snap of his neck echoed loudly in the bar. Almost as if a spell was lifted, did the people suddenly stop eating. Some blinked disorientated, some needed to sit down. Stiles finally felt his legs move and wasted no time before running towards Isaac and pulling him into a hug.

“That was badass!” He told the curly-haired wolf, who beamed at him.

“I did what my therapist told me.” Stiles saw the almost imperceptible look of understanding on Derek’s face.

Scott shoved Stiles away and put Isaac in head-lock. An affectionate one that Jackson had to break up.

Meanwhile, Lydia crouched down and pulled the ring from Gluttony’s finger. She held it out for Stiles, who took it in his hand to have a closer look.

“Do you think this means something?” the banshee asked. Stiles wasn’t all too sure himself but before he could say so, his eyes caught the inscription on the ring.

“It says Gluttony on it.”

“You better keep a close eye on that one. When I touched it, I got a feeling that it will be important.” Stiles had long ago started to trust her feelings; however vague they were. He would be an idiot not to.

“Only the first, huh?” Derek asked Stiles from where they were watching people run out of the bar, muttering to themselves that nothing had happened, that this wasn’t real.

Stiles nodded.

“What are we going to do?”

“We take it head on, like we always do.” Stiles looked up at Derek, a smile firmly in place that spoke of determination.

_“Let them come!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you goes out to DeaPotteriana for helping Derek's Italian come to life and translating what I wanted him to say.


	3. Sloth (Acedia) Why does it matter? I don't care...

_“The last won’t become the first if they are lagging behind.”_

__

The kitchen clock just stuck ten when Stiles finally dug into the dinner he had been re-heating. He contemplated calling Derek for the millionth time today, but thought better of it. Every interaction since that fateful dinner had proven that the tension was still heavy between them and he didn’t feel like resolving it yet.

The first few days Stiles had been confident to reign in his stupid and most importantly unrequited crush on the Alpha whenever they were in the same vicinity, but he had realised his misconception rather quickly. They had been joking about the night they were locked in a motel room, hunters on the search for them, when Stiles had managed to knock over a lamp and hit Derek on the head with it.

Stiles had caught himself staring at the smile lines around Derek’s lips and the gleam in his eyes and had thought to himself how beautiful he looked when he was so at ease. It had felt like a twist in his chest. He remembered grabbing his chest and massaging the spot, just so that the feeling would disappear. Derek had glanced at him, eyes narrowing in concern but hadn’t asked. Stiles had been glad that he hadn’t been forced to lie again.

Now, leaning against his counter, he wanted as much distance between them as possible, while simultaneously longing for Derek’s company. It was frustrating him to no ends. What frustrated him even more, though, was that Derek himself didn’t make an effort to stay in contact with him. After that last meeting, no messages came asking how he was or wishing him a good morning. That hurt even more than being in love with him when he didn’t reciprocate. He wanted those messages, the ones no one else in the pack ever received from the Alpha, he wanted to be asked about his day and ask Derek in turn. It was as if Derek had suddenly decided to shut down the soft side of him only Stiles ever truly got to see.

When he went to bed that night, his thoughts were running in circles in his head, going from Derek to himself to Derek and back again. He turned to the other side, fluffed up his pillow and tried to find some peace.

It didn’t work for a long time.

* * *

Monday morning, Stiles woke up to a message from Boyd, asking if he wanted to join him in the library to cram together for an upcoming exam in one of the courses they had together. Stiles was thankful for the distraction, so he sent out a quick text to meet at eleven.

He jumped out of Roscoe at around ten to eleven, a bag on his shoulder and coffee in his hand. Boyd took one look at the cup and rolled his eyes.

“What? I couldn’t sleep last night. If you want me to stay awake more than five minutes, I have to have caffeine.”

Boyd just said: “Fine.” and walked to the library entrance without even turning to see if Stiles was following.

At the front desk a girl threw them a pitying glance when she saw the amount of books they balanced in their arms. Boyd saw Stiles struggled to keep his balance, huffed and took some of the heavier ones from him. They sat in a more secluded area, away from the law students that were debating about the defence of one particular case.

About an hour in– Stiles was currently hanging upside down from his chair and trying to read the same passage for the fifth time– a girl walked in and asked Boyd if he could help her find a book she’d been looking for. Stiles found it odd that she didn’t just ask the girl at the front desk but didn’t think much about it.

Boyd complied– not enthusiastically– and walked towards the section that held theology-themed entries.

Meanwhile, Stiles contemplated getting his third coffee but decided against it, when a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Derek told him not to, because his heart was already beating out of his chest due to the caffeine. When after ten minutes Boyd still didn’t come back, Stiles went to where they had disappeared behind a book shelf. What he found was not what he had been expecting.

Boyd was sitting on the ground and staring at seemingly nothing.

“She had the ring.” The wolf said without much infliction. Stiles crouched down, confused about Boyd’s sudden change of behaviour. He had never been babbling like Stiles but this kind of monotone was new.

“Sloth. She hugged me.”

Well, shit! 

“You didn’t fight her?”

“Why would I?” Boyd sounded incredibly bored. Stiles couldn’t believe it. They could have had her, they could have-

“Because she’s a demon! We need to kill those!”

“It didn’t feel that important.” If he kept staring at this goddamn wall Stiles would break something. Instead, he dialled Jackson’s number and breathed a sigh of relief when the wolf picked up on the first ring.

“Jackson? Hi. We’re in the library. Boyd’s met Sloth. Can you come pick him up?” Judging by the sounds Stiles was hearing, Jackson had stubbed his toe and was now hobbling out of his house. He hung up.

It didn’t take long before the Kanima barrelled into the library, getting shushed by the girl at the front desk for stomping his feet and nearly ran Stiles over, who was still leaning against the bookshelf.

“Get up!” Yep, Stiles thought to himself, Jackson had zero patience for lazy people. And he expressed that sentiment rather loudly, while dragging the other wolf away by the shirt.

In the meantime, Stiles marched to his Jeep and called Derek. Even though, he would rather have cut out his own tongue than talking to the Alpha, he knew Derek needed to be made aware of the situation, especially since it concerned one of his Betas.

“Heeey Sourwolf…” God, why couldn’t he at least not make an idiot of himself? Derek merely sighed into the receiver, something that he hadn’t done in a while and it made Stiles’ chest ache a little.

“Boyd’s been touched by Sloth, Jackson’s taking him home, just thought you should know.” He was about to hit the end-call button, when Derek replied. 

“Can people die of being lazy?” It was an odd question, one that Stiles couldn’t answer from the top of his head and it lacked Derek’s usual urgency. Where was his suffocating protective instinct when Stiles needed it?

“I… don’t know? It’s not like I study medicine…” Okay, maybe the harsh tone hadn’t been warranted.

“Can you look it up?”

“Sure. Want me to do anything else while we’re at it?” Stiles bit his tongue after making the comment. He really needed to keep his attitude in check. Lashing out because Derek didn’t want him back was not the way to go. And it’s not like it was Derek’s fault he didn’t like Stiles.

“No.” It hurt a little, not hearing Derek ask if everything was alright. But then again, things were rather tense between them and Stiles didn’t know if he had earned the privilege to be asked that after behaving like an asshole. Broken heart or not, Derek was his friend.

He didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Especially not after inviting him to a dinner.

* * *

“Boyd’s not been at the garage.” Stiles glanced at his watch, saw it was six in the morning and groaned into his phone. It took him about a minute to realised that Derek was still speaking.

“Can you say that again? I think I fell asleep there for a bit…” He yawned, stretching like a cat on his bed.

“Boyd’s not been at the garage for days. I want you to go over to his house and see if he’s alright!” Derek’s voice had a bit more force in it than before and Stiles tried hard not to let it offend him.

“Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you go over yourself? You’re his Alpha, shouldn’t you- like- check on him?” Not that he would mind checking if Boyd was alright, he like the wolf well enough, but he didn’t quite see the point. Derek, apparently, didn’t have an answer for that because he was silent on the other end of the call.

“Derek?”

“Just- check up on him, will you?”

The call was disconnected and Stiles was left fuming.

Honestly, couldn’t he at least give him a solid reason or ask nicely?

It was six in the fucking morning, for God’s sake.

* * *

After deciding that his stomach rebelled with an angry growl at the idea of eating breakfast this early, he drove to Boyd’s house and was forced to wait for ten minutes until the wolf made it to the door.

“Derek worries so can you please get your ass dressed and drive to the garage to do your job?” It may have come out harsher than necessary but he had had it with them. It wasn’t his job to do all of this.

They were all grown men.

“No, sorry.” And he closed the door in his face. Stiles stood there, on the porch, contemplated kicking the door in- and risking breaking his leg- before stomping to his Jeep, hitting the gas pedal and driving to Derek’s himself.

“Hale!” Derek looked up startled from the hood of a car where he was bent over.

“The next time you have a problem with your Beta wasting his time away at his house at six in the goddamn morning, I suggest you drive your ass there yourself and drag him here by the ears if you have to, I don’t care- but you will leave me the hell out of it!” He turned on his heel and walked back out, Derek close behind him. When the wolf grabbed his arm, Stiles shoved it away. He was not in the mood.

“Stiles- wait!”

“No! Seriously, I get that you’re pissed at me or some shit and I would have apologised for ruining dinner but this man- this is some fucking bullshit!” He ripped the door of his Jeep open, climbed inside and slammed it shut.

Derek had the audacity to look crestfallen but Stiles was beyond caring.

Whatever the hell was going on with them, he was not responsible for fixing it.

* * *

He made it home in record speed, his blood rushing in his ears, his face red with anger. His stomach rumbled unhappily when he realised that it was nine already and he still hadn’t eaten. Without caring that it was still morning, he ordered pizza and threw himself on the couch. While he did have a lecture later, he didn’t have to get ready for the next two hours. The delivery guy did give him a scandalous look but didn’t comment and just handed over the pizza. Stiles was glad.

He really didn’t feel like yelling at the pizza guy too. Once he found a decent movie, he sank back against the couch cushions and tried to calm himself down.

That was the precise moment when _“Who let the dogs out”_ rang through his living room, indicating that Scott was calling.

“Hey buddy…” Great, if Scott wanted something from him too then Stiles wouldn’t be held accountable for any further actions. He was already working himself up into a rage, when Scott continued:

“I was just wondering if I should pick you up at eleven? I have an early class too, so if you want we could, like, go together? You’ve been driving me lot lately…” Why on earth Scott would refer to anything after eleven being an early class was beyond him. For the first time today, though, he didn’t have the urge to pull his hair and stomp his feet.

“Yeah, that’d be great man, thanks.” All anger left him abruptly. He was suddenly so tired.

“See ya’ then, buddy.” Maybe he should sleep some more? He still had some time left…

* * *

As it turned out, Scott was having a giving day of sorts. Stiles would have been concerned if another sin had been running around, but since it was Sloth and Scott seemed the epitome of active, he didn’t feel the need to worry. In fact, he truly enjoyed just having lunch with his best friend.

“Sooo, what’s going on with you lately?” Scott asked around a bite of his sandwich. Stiles didn’t have it in him to beat around the bush. What he couldn’t let slide though, was Scott chewing with his mouth open.

“Close your mouth, that’s disgusting, dude!” Scott stuck out his tongue, which caused a leaf of salad to fall out of his mouth and onto his plate. Ugh. Raised by wolves.

“You’ve been acting strange lately. Not calling Derek and dumping him after dinner. What’s up with that?” There were so many misconceptions in those three sentences that Stiles didn’t know which to correct first.

“Nothing’s going on. And I didn’t dump Derek. Where’d you get that from?”

“Dude- your heartrate just went up, like, to the tenth floor.” Once- just once, Stiles wanted to get away with a little white lie. He didn’t like getting called out for every half-truth.

“I did not dump Derek!” He repeated with more force behind it.

“Then why are you being weird around him? You guys have been doing dinner since forever. And now you two are rarely in the same room anymore. Seriously, man, I’m worried about you…” Scott seemed to contemplate something, then he said:

“You’re not the guy to just stop caring like that unless something serious happened. So, I’m asking you: what happened to you and Derek? You were getting along so well…”

“It’s not that easy…”

“I call bullshit. Either you don’t want to tell me or you don’t know yourself. So, which is it?” Since when had Scott become that observant? Stiles almost missed the days he was an oblivious idiot whose world centred around one certain dimpled huntress.

“How do you even know about that dinner? I didn’t tell you…” as soon as the sentence was out, he regretted it.

“Yeah, what’s up about that anyway? Since when do you not tell me stuff?” Scott looked so genuinely hurt, eyes round and impossibly large.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested, you know?” Stiles confessed.

“Dude! Of course, I am! You’re my best friend, I need to know these things.” Warmth trickled pleasantly into his belly. Suddenly, the day didn’t seem as grim as it had started out.

“So, tell me- what happened there that you decided you don’t wanna see Derek anymore?” Stiles breathed in deeply, preparing himself for the pain that swept in once he allowed himself to think back to that evening.

“I just- I had some false conception about what this dinner was about and when I realised that, I needed some time…”

“Well, what did you think it was about?”

“A date…” He said it quietly, almost a whisper but Scott caught it anyway. And the way his face fell made Stiles heart clench tightly. He really didn’t want to rehash that or see the pity on Scott’s face.

Instead, Scott’s arms were suddenly around him, grounding him and not letting go.

“He’s an idiot.” It almost made him chuckle, to hear Scott whisper it as if he was afraid the Alpha could hear. Scott’s embrace tightened momentarily, when he felt Stiles breath hiccup. He didn’t care that they were on campus in open view, didn’t care that there were probably people watching.

He just needed his best friend to tell him it would all be okay.

* * *

After class, Stiles decided to drive by the station and bring his Dad some dinner, since he knew the Sheriff wouldn’t be home tonight. That this was one way for him to control his Dad’s fat intake was so not his reason for driving by. When he reached the parking lot, he noticed officers running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Dread filled his stomach once he entered. Teresa greeted him with a small smile but it fell the minute she turned away again.

“Son? What are you doing- Jordan! Where is the folder I’ve asked you for half an hour ago?”

Jordan came barrelling in, said “hi” to Stiles hurriedly, nearly threw the folder onto the desk and was out of the office in under a minute. Stiles really felt for the guy. 

“Sorry, today’s been very busy.”

“I can see that,” Stiles mused, while studying the board the Sheriff had been looking at just before Stiles had come in.

“A new case?” His Dad snorted.

“ ** _A_** new case? Try five.”

Stiles gaped: “Five?”

“Two women died of starvation, one boy because he wouldn’t move out of the way of an incoming car. Wasn’t suicide though, he just didn’t want to get up. The other two- it’s a bit complicated…”

“Daaaaad, tell me! I love complicated!” And he was back to nagging kid territory. Great. But he wanted a distraction and five cases of strange deaths were more than his cup of tea.

“They were ripped apart.” Well, consider his enthusiasm gone.

“Any idea what’s doing this?” he showed Stiles ten pictures, all of them from different angles, but very clearly displaying the scratch marks on the victims’ bodies. Stiles felt goose bumps covering his arms. He had seen slashes like those before, too often to keep count, actually.

He muttered “werewolf” and watched his father’s face darken.

“I’m taking a wild guess here and say that it was none of yours.”

Before Stiles had time to enrage himself and launch into a rant about how none of his wolfs would even come close to killing a human, his father had made a dismissive hand gesture. It occurred to Stiles then, in the back of his mind, that he thought of the pack as his wolves. For a second, it startled him, but then he thought: Why shouldn’t he? They were his family after all.

“Listen, I don’t think it was any of them, but that means there is somebody else running around and slashing throats and as much as I’d like to see him behind bars, I don’t think that’s my territory. So, maybe you should give Derek a call? Tell him I want his input?”

Stiles nodded without considering the consequences.

“What about the others?” he asked, “I never heard of someone starving themselves like that…” The women hadn’t shown any signs of being bulimic, anorexic or having any eating disorder at all. It didn’t make sense.

“Their fridges were full…” the Sheriff pondered “they would have just needed to move from the couch and get something to eat…”

**FUCK!**

“Sloth! They were too lazy to stand up! Shit! So, people can actually die of sloth. That’s-“ his brain short circuited.

“Boyd! We need someone to look after Boyd!” He was out of the door before the Sheriff could blink twice. The dinner he had brought completely forgotten.

“Isaac? Isaac, I need you to go over to Boyd’s- take Erica with you or anyone, I don’t care! Just drive over now!” Isaac sounded startled but Stiles heard his engine roar in the background.

“What’s happening? Stiles?”

Stiles felt his lungs close up at the possibility of finding Boyd starved in his living room. So, he pressed out: “People are dying because they’re too lazy to eat.” Isaac cursed and hit the gas.

“You would have felt it! If he’d been dead or hurt, you’d have felt it, right?” It was all he had to keep from going insane. They couldn’t lose Boyd. They couldn’t lose anyone.

“Yes, yes- Derek said- we’d have felt it, I’m sure…” But he didn’t sound it. And if Stiles had wolf hearing, he would have heard Isaac’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m almost there. Stiles-“

“Just tell me when you have him. And hurry, please!” He hated having nothing to with his hands. And waiting in general. The knot in his chest tightened when he heard- what he supposed was- Isaac kicking in the front door after receiving no answer.

Then, finally, Isaac said: “He’s okay!”

Stiles’ knees threatened to give out where he was leaning against Roscoe for support.

“You have him?”

“Yep. Just a bit thirsty, nothing serious.” Tears of relief burned in Stiles’ eyes and he blinked them away furiously.

“Thanks, Isaac. Stay with him, okay?”

“Not a problem! Course I will!” Boyd’s protest was half-heartedly at best and ignored by both of them.

Well, one problem was taking care of at least. Now, he just needed to face Derek in his loft and talk strategies with him.

Great.

Just how he had wanted his evening to go.

* * *

The streets were empty on Stiles’ drive to the loft. He wondered if that was because he really didn’t want to see Derek and that’s why the universe was playing the practical joke on him that was no afternoon traffic. This was seriously turning out to be one long ass day.

 _“Game of Survival”_ by Ruelle started playing on his phone and he stopped in a hard shoulder just so that his inner voice- that sounded suspiciously like Lydia- didn’t scold him for being a hazard.

“Stiles? I just found a body.” No. Seriously, what even was this day?

Allison continued in a calm voice as if this was an everyday occurrence. Okay, Beacon Hills did have a rather high body count but it would do them no good to normalise that.

“In the woods, I was doing my usual round and the guy-“ she hesitated “his head was ripped off and there are slash marks on his chest.”

He felt the strong need to hit head against the steering wheel. 

Repeatedly. 

“Call my Dad. He already has two others in the morgue.”

For some reason, Allison said: “I’m sorry, Stiles–“

“Not your fault.”

“No, I guess not, but still. I know the last weeks have been hard for you. If there was anyone else, I could have called instead of you, I would have.” Almost as an afterthought, she said: “But you needed to know. Even though you really deserve a day off.”

When she hung up, Stiles took a moment just to breathe through the pain in his abdomen. He didn’t do well with people telling him such things.

Even though, he should want to hear them, they made his chest hurt.

* * *

He reached Derek’s loft just when darkness hit the street. For some reason, he was glad when the Alpha opened his door with a surprised huff and not an annoyed facial expression.

“We need to talk.”

“I know.” Derek answered, which sent Stiles reeling. He hadn’t anticipated that.

So, true to form, he blurted out: “There’s an Omega on your territory.” Derek’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

“There is a what on our territory?” Stiles didn’t miss the change in pronoun and felt something fragile flutter in his belly.

“A Rogue. At least that’s what we’re thinking. Three people’ve been ripped to death. Oh, apart from the three others that Sloth has killed.”

“So, you can die from Sloth?” Derek mused, completely disregarding Stiles’ previous point. The demon was not their priority right now.

“Rogue first, sin later.”

“Can I get that on a t-shirt?” Stiles tried hard not to laugh at the comment. Then Derek’s smile fell and both of the stared at each other in awkward silence.

“So, how do you know it’s a rogue?” He showed the pictures Allison had sent him and the ones from the precinct.

“That look like anything but a rogue to you?” He hated the sarcastic bite in his tone, but couldn’t quite manage to keep it out. Derek did finally look then, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Where was the last one?”

“The well. You know where we cross when we do the run across the field?” Judging by the way Derek’s eyes lit up, he did know.

“Allison talk to your Dad yet?” Stiles hummed his answer, still bent over the table, searching for anything that would indicate more than one wolf being involved.

“I’ll handle it!” Derek was already on his way to the door, when the words registered somewhere on the edge of Stiles’ awareness.

“You’re what?”

“I’m handling it.”

Stiles was concerned about getting whiplash with how fast his moods were changing today.

“The fuck you’re not! Derek it’s dark out, you don’t know who’s going around killing people. We don’t even know for sure it’s just one. Could be two, hell knows!”

“But if I don’t, more people are going to die!”

“If you do, _**you**_ aregoing to die!” Stiles snapped back.

“Nice to know you have such faith in my abilities to take care of a rogue.” Derek snarled, fangs elongating. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it!”

Derek yelled back, just as heatedly: “Do I? Because we haven’t been talking in days. So, how would I know?”

That gave Stiles a pause.

“That’s what you think? That I don’t trust in your abilities? Because we haven’t been talking for a few days? That I just suddenly lost my trust in you?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding so hurt. But he was.

How could Derek think that?

“No- I- it’s just…” he trained his eyes on the ground “I’ve missed you,” Derek confessed then quietly.

Stiles' ears burned but his heart clenched. It was a weird mix of sensations.

“I’m sorry, I just needed some time…” Derek nodded, not looking convinced.

“Can we- I want to make it up to you- whatever I did wrong that night…” he offered, shoulders up to his ears. The look on his face though, it was absolutely gut wrenching. Stiles had seen that look way too many times to not know what it meant.

Oh god, no.

That was just-

He shot up from the couch and crossed the room in about two seconds flat. He threw his arms around Derek- ignoring the squeak the wolf let out- and pulled him into a hug. Into his ear, he whispered:

“You did nothing wrong, okay? I need you to understand that. This is not your fault.”

“Then why have you been ignoring me?” Derek’s voice lacked its usual ring, the biting sarcasm, the brooding. Now, it was void of all emotion but one: guilt.

“I just needed some time- I- I can’t tell you more than that but please, don’t you ever think this was your fault!” He needed to drive the point home without revealing too much.

“There is something I need to deal with on my own but I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Derek’s hand covered Stiles’ pulse point, which made Stiles’ heart beat pick up embarrassingly. The wolf didn’t seem bothered.

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise,” Stiles answered.

Someone cleared their throat.

Stiles literally jumped back so fast he hit his elbow on the drawer.

“While that certainly was entertaining to watch, I have it on good authority that someone is killing people on our territory.” Lydia marched in, carrying a bag that looked more expensive than Stiles’ entire existence.

She quickly continued: “Isaac is still with Boyd but the rest of the pack is on the way to the preserve. Jackson caught the scent of the Rogue. A Beta if he’s not wrong.” And, as much Stiles would like to tease him for it, he rarely ever was. 

“Come on!” She pushed Stiles forward, without any concerns about his incompetence on finding his balance. Derek steadied him, unaware that the touch still burned on his skin. Lydia threw him a glance that Stiles refused to return.

* * *

The preserve was quiet tonight. For a Rogue, this one must be really talented at hiding. Jackson greeted Stiles with his usual shove- that was more like a love-tap than anything else. “Where?” Derek asked, senses on high alert. Jackson motioned into the direction of the Nemeton.

“Everyone ready?” Stiles felt something go through them after Derek’s question, almost like a wave. It had them stand taller, their hearts beat faster. Battle mode, Stiles thought to himself. They were preparing for a fight.

And the fight came faster than he would have hoped. The Rogue did not only hear them coming, he had also prepared for Lydia’s special powers. Somehow, the scream she let loose didn’t even remotely affect him. The guy was in full Beta-shift, shirt in shreds, blood around his mouth. He must have been rogue for a while, if the wild gleam in his blue eyes was anything to go by.

Scott launched into an attack, backed by Derek and had the Rogue down on his knees relatively fast. Still, Stiles thought, something was off. He couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t say what it was. But when Erica turned around, obviously having heard something, and was tackled to the ground, everything clicked into place.

Stiles cursed. He aimed his gun.

For a short moment, time seemed to stand still. Erica stared at him, intent in her eyes. The other rogue grinned around blood fangs. Then he shoved his claws deep into Erica’s chest, where he was holding her.

Erica howled. The sound so full of pain, it made Stiles want to vomit.

Derek roared.

Stiles caught Erica’s eye. In his peripheric vision, he saw Derek approach fast. He stopped him with a raised hand. Erica’s nod was barely perceptible, but it was there. And that was, what counted.

Stiles pulled the trigger.

It hit both of them.

The skin on Erica’s arm burst. And then she was free. Bleeding but free. The wolf behind her had fallen to the ground. The bullet was stuck in his chest, his eyes rolled back. Stiles saw the moment, his life left him.

Maybe, he contemplated later, he should feel sorry for him. But he didn’t. He had to save Erica, no matter the cost.

The blonde wolf sunk to her knees, clutching at her chest. Her breath was coming short. Stiles and Derek both fell into motion, reaching her almost simultaneously. Without having to talk, Stiles cleaned the wound in her arm of any residue wolfsbane while Derek tried to stop the bleeding in her chest. Stiles saw the black veins disappearing in Derek’s arm, the way his jaw clenched and gripped his hand tightly. Derek looked up for a second, then, startled but smiled once he realised what Stiles was doing.

A loud snap to their right had all three of them whip around. Scott stood over the body of the first rogue, no mercy in his eyes and blood on his clothes, that Stiles hoped was not his own.

“Ow- you’re crushing me!” Erica complained from the ground. Derek’s grip immediately softened.

“Sorry.”

“Ah it’s okay. If you keep doing your mojo…” Her eyes fluttered close then. Stiles had a short moment of panic, before Derek said:

“She’s asleep. Must have taken a lot of her.”

“We should get her into a bed. I don’t want her waking up and complaining about the leaves in her hair because you two idiots don’t know a thing about curls.” Lydia snapped.

Stiles would have believed her to be utterly indifferent if not for the clumps of mascara coating not only her lashes but her under-eyes as well. Jackson wrapped his arms around her, offering his jacket because she was shivering.

Stiles smiled to himself and moved aside to let Derek pick up the unconscious girl in his arms.

* * *

Stiles felt like a déjà vu when he knocked on Boyd’s door. This was turning out to be one of the longest days of his life. And he wanted to go to sleep, like yesterday.

The door was opened by an exhausted Isaac. Scott stepped forward, hugging the other wolf in the process and said:

“Here for Boyd watch, second shift.” Even though, he was so obviously tired, Isaac managed a smile.

“He’s in there.” Scott and Stiles shared a look, neither wanted to mention Erica but both knew Isaac and Boyd would have their heads if they didn’t.

Before they even finished explaining- watching Isaac’s eyes widen and his jaw drop- Boyd had planted himself in the doorway.

“Where is she?” Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes. That was more active participation than he had seen from Boyd since that day in the library. Then he understood. Erica. Of course.

“At Derek’s. She’s asleep though. Deaton said, she just needs some rest and she’ll be good as new.”

“How bad, Scott? How bad was it?”

“She’s alright now…” Scott answered, deliberately vague.

The change that went through the wolf was not grand, like Stiles would have thought, but it was there. His features sharpened, his muscles bulged as if straining to hit something.

 _“How is she!”_ It wasn’t a question anymore but a demand. And Stiles complied before the house came down on them.

“She has some wounds in her chest, nothing major. It was already healing when we got her into the car. There’s a gash in her arm from my bullet but I washed it out.” Boyd froze where he was standing.

Then he shivered as if shaking something invisible off and was out of the door before any of them could react.

* * *

_Two days. It took Boyd two days to figure out a way to track down Sloth. Once he did, he didn’t inform the pack of his plan but marched into the spa on his own. The scents were mingled due to the overload of cremes and soaps but that rotten smell he would know anywhere. He barely set foot into the room before the girl grinned up at him._

_“Ah Boyd. Welcome- would you like a treatment? They really do wonders for burnout patients. No? Well, that’s a pity.” She didn’t even bother to stand up._

_“Now, you must tell me: how did you manage to break my little influence on you?” He didn’t feel like answering._

_The moment Stiles had talked about Erica getting hurt, the image of her pale body on the sheet, still bloody gashes in her chest that were healing way too slowly- it all flashed behind his eyes. He hadn’t been there. For her. When she had needed him to shield her, to protect her. And now she had been hurt. Because he had been lazy._

_There was no concern in her voice and he realised, she might not be able to feel that._

_He didn’t care._

_The door fell close behind him, granting him privacy. He stalked forward, eyes focussed, teeth sharp.  
_

_“My, my, what big teeth we have here.” He snarled, crouched down.  
_

_A glim of something akin to fear shone in her eyes. It lasted barely a second before he tasted blood in his mouth._

_He gulped down the can of water on the bedside table, glad for the cool taste against the copper coating his gum. Her body looked small from this angle. Without too much interest, he grabbed the ring and pulled it from her finger._

_He remembered Stiles talking about the importance of those and didn’t want them to have a disadvantage because he had forgotten to take it with him._

_One last glace at the body- something in him settled at the knowledge he had overcome this demon forever- and he walked back out of the room._

_The security tape would be safe in Danny’s hands, once Jackson convinced him to have a look at it._

* * *

Stiles gaped throughout the whole story. Derek didn’t so much as pat Boyd on the back and congratulate him for a job well done. He couldn’t believe it. That was such a stark contrast to the Boyd Stiles had assigned Isaac to. He was glad to have the real Boyd back, he really was.

But if it were up to him, he wouldn’t let any of the Betas go in again to deal with their demons. That was what pack was for. To fight side by side.

When he told Boyd in those exact words, the other laughed at him.

“I needed to do this myself.”

“I get that, but-“

“Stiles. It’s fine. Everything worked out. Sloth’s dead. We have the ring.” He handed it to Stiles who was still gaping. God, he seriously needed to close his mouth.

“Don’t do it again, alright? I don’t need to worry about you running alone into danger too. I have two of those idiots already.” he shoved Boyd’s shoulder.

Or attempted to. His fingers audibly cracked.

“You were always the reliable one, the responsible one. Don’t disappoint me now!”

Boyd ruffled his hair at that and sauntered over to where Erica was cuddled up on the couch.

“Can’t promise that, Stilinski.”

Over his shoulder, he said: “If it’s for good enough reason…”

And Stiles, standing there and watching the beaming smile on Erica’s face, turned to Derek where he was putting away dinner plates and thought to himself:

_I would have done the same thing…_


	4. Pride (Superbia) I'm not wrong! I can't be wrong! I'm never wrong!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Let me know your thoughts and enjoy.

_“Never let pride keep something broken the heart wants to fix…”_

Ever since Gluttony had wreaked havoc in town, Stiles was weary of grocery stores, restaurants and places containing food in general. Still, lunch wouldn’t make itself without any food, so he was forced to set foot inside the newly renovated store. He wandered around, picking up some vegetables and meat here and there but his thoughts were still deep inside the book he had left on his desk.

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t look around the corner before turning. He collided with someone, who was surprisingly firm and had reflexes fast enough, Stiles briefly contemplated it was another supernatural creature.

Wouldn’t be the first.

As far as Stiles knew even supernatural beings needed their groceries. If they didn’t snack on a rabbit– lowkey looking at Jackson– that is to say.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry, so I didn’t look where I was going. Are you alright?” The guy rambled with a remarkable speed that rivalled even Stiles’.

A quick glance made his jaw drop to the floor. The guy was handsome. Brown locks Stiles wanted to run his hands through, a bright smile and incredibly blue eyes. Why did all the people around him have to look like cut outs of a magazine, he wondered. Not that he was jealous. He really wasn’t, but deep down it did make him feel a little self-conscious if he was honest. The guy grinned at him sheepishly, as if he thought Stiles had hit his head or was otherwise impaired. He had been asked a question, hadn’t he?

To avoid coming across even more like a walking brain-damage, he offered: “Ah it’s cool man. Was totally my fault.” God, that smile was to die for. Not literally, Stiles hurried to think. He didn’t particularly feel like giving the universe any more opening than it needed for making his life hell. The guy scratched his neck, a blush on his cheeks and Stiles checked his hand for a ring that wasn’t there.

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Wouldn’t that have been just his luck if he ran into Lust in the middle of the grocery story? But then again, Stiles didn’t imagine Lust would have picked this specific shape. Maybe, though, he wondered, the demons appeared different to each person.

But no, he knew that wasn’t true.

Boyd and Isaac had seen the exact same person he had. Would Lust be different? Because attraction was fluid? While he contemplated and picked his brain about information, the guy looked him up and down. Stiles didn’t miss it but he didn’t return the favour either, too caught up in his own thoughts.

“I’m Lucas.” The guy– Lucas, Stiles emphasised– extended his hand.

“Stiles. And yes, that’s really my name and I don’t want to answer any questions regarding it.” Stiles answered, his words harsh but his smile taking the edge off.

“Stiles, huh?” Lucas tried to roll the name on his tongue. It was adorable, watching his nose crinkle.

“So, Stiles, I have to say- if I’d known I’d run into you, I’d made sure to have more time.” He glanced at his watch.

“But I’m late, so this’ll have to do.” Stiles didn’t know what was happening when Lucas grabbed his hand and scribbled a number down on it with a pen Stiles had no idea where he had gotten it from.

“Call me? If you want? I promise, I’m not a creep.” Stiles wanted to say something witty in return, but Lucas beat him to it: “You’re just cute!”

With that, he abandoned a very confused Stiles in the cornflakes section and ran towards the exit.

* * *

On the way home, Stiles kept glancing at his hand, unsure if he should be happy about the number or not. It seemed like a miracle that someone would hit on him and want him to call too. Maybe it was just a joke? Surely, the guy hadn’t been serious? And there was his crush on Derek after all. To avoid doing something harsh and regrettable, he did what everyone with half a brain would do: he called Lydia.

Stiles wondered briefly, while waiting for her to pick up, when she had become his number one call in all things heart related. Maybe since Scott had fallen for Allison, he mused.

“What’s wrong?” Lovely. Stiles took immense pleasure in knowing, he wasn’t the only one getting slightly paranoid.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just need your help.” The sigh of relief that followed his words was barely audible.

“There was this guy in the store- and I kinda ran him over when I went for the cereals- and he gave me his number and said I should call and now I’m freaking out and-“

“Stiles!” Lydia interrupted before he could ramble on. His mind was jumping between the number, Lucas’ smile, Derek’s smile, Derek’s everything, then back to Lucas.

“So, a cute boy gave you his number?”

“Yes. Weren’t you listening? And now I-“

Lydia kept talking as if he hadn’t said anything: “And you don’t know what to do with it. Did I get this right?” He confirmed, suddenly quite aware that it sounded silly.

“Call him.” Huh. Not what he had been expecting.

“I can’t just call him.”

“Why not?” Seriously? Was she having some kind of stroke? Or did her genius need an off-day?

“Because…”

“Because you’re still so gone on Derek that nobody else does it for you?” Yeah, no. Okay, maybe. But it wasn’t like he could just switch it off.

“I just-“

“Listen: I know how you feel about him, but maybe you need to indulge yourself for a while? He’s obviously not ready to be in a relationship or he would have done something about it already and you’re just sitting on your butt and playing the waiting game. And you deserve more than that. So, I suggest, you get yourself some of that tender-lovin’-feelin’.”

Stiles cringed at the wording but couldn’t find fault with the content of what she was saying.

“Do you think he’ll mind?” He asked, voice small and oh so afraid of the answer.

“I-“ Lydia paused, hesitant “I don’t know.” The pain that shot through him felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

“I really do think there is something there, even if you don’t believe me. But I also think that he just- that there is something he has to work out before he can give it a try. And as much as I’d like you two to ride into the sunset together, I also think it would do you some good having someone who wants you and isn’t afraid to show it to you.”

His stomach clenched while listening to her. That feeling of not being good enough to date, of rejection seeping back into his consciousness.

“So, I just call him? Isn’t that unfair to him? I mean…”

“It’s really not. You’re not using him, Stiles.” Because he knew how it was on that end of the deal, had been the pranked and fucked over way too often not to know.

“I guess not…”

“Just call him and see where it goes.”

Stiles was about to end the call, when Lydia said: “And make sure to check if he’s a normal one, okay? We really don’t need another disaster on our hands right now.”

“At least he didn’t have a ring on…” Stiles mumbled.

“Why would he have a ring on?” For a genius, Lydia was sometimes incredibly slow on the uptake.

“Because I thought it was Lust.”

“Stiles…” her tone changed from curious to sympathetic and Stiles didn’t want to hear it.

“Wouldn’t have been so far-fetched.”

“Yeah, because it’s such a miracle that someone would hit on you that your mind automatically goes to a demon.” Knowing how agitated she got on his behalf made Stiles chuckle.

“Just wanted to be sure…”

“But he wasn’t Lust. You have no excuse not to call him. So, get on it, Stilinski.” He hung up, rubbing his neck in a mixture of exasperation and nerves. Then he put the number in his phone and pressed the call button.

_“Hey Lucas, I don’t know if you’re up for it, but I thought we could hang out sometime?”_

* * *

“You’re into mythology? Dude, that’s awesome.” Lucas looked like an excited bunny and Stiles felt a genuine smile tugging on his lips. Being able to discuss something he was interested in without being called a nerd or asked to make it short was indeed awesome. He was surprised – and a little sceptical – when he figured out how much Lucas actually knew about Greek gods and roman symbols.

Fortunately, once they crossed into werewolf territory– which Stiles had done on purpose just to test the waters– it seemed as if Lucas’ well of knowledge had come to an end. Stiles didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but he went with it and delved further into runes and other religious symbols.

They both had fries and a milkshake and for the first time, Stiles didn’t feel bad for having someone else pay his meal. Talking to Lucas was easy, his smile contagious and his hands soft when they brushed against Stiles’ fingers. They reached Stiles’ Jeep, Lucas had driven to the diner on his bike, and Stiles suddenly felt nervous.

He didn’t know the protocol for ending what he sure hoped was a date. Lucas, however, wasn’t fazed.

He leaned in, hands coming up to Stiles’ face and asked: “May I kiss you?”

Stiles felt himself nod without giving his head the okay to do so and before he knew it, soft lips were pressed against his in a chaste kiss that left his mouth tingling. He tasted strawberry and something that must have been entirely Lucas. The guy was leaning away but Stiles grabbed his lapels and pulled him in again.

This time, Lucas hands were on his waist, almost too tight, and his kisses were hot. When they came up for air, Stiles’ lips were swollen and his cheeks felt heated.

“I’ll better go.” Lucas whispered, as if to make sure only Stiles heard, as if it was for his ears only. Stiles nodded, watched as Lucas pushed himself off of him and climbed into Roscoe. He needed a minute to breathe before starting the car. On the way to the pack meeting Derek had informed him off half an hour ago, he looked in the mirror.

God, the second he walked in, they would know. A small voice inside his head said urged him to let them. He didn’t know if he should feel guilty or glad that he liked the way Lucas kissed him.

* * *

Par for the course. Stiles arrived at the loft to a group of wolves looking at him with a variety of confusion – Scott – disgust – Jackson – glee – Isaac and Erica – pride – Lydia – indifference and a raised brow – Boyd and then he turned to Derek. His face was closed off, his eyebrows caught in the permanent scowl.

“Where were you? I said nine. Not half past.” Stiles didn’t know if Derek was pissed _because_ he was late or because he obviously could tell _why_ Stiles was late.

“Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Yeah, we can smell that.” Jackson quipped from the couch. Even though, he sneered at the thought of Stiles with anybody, his eyes were playful. And Stiles was glad for it.

“Concentrate!” Derek bellowed, making Stiles, and Erica too for that matter, jump in their seats.

“On what?”

“You would know if you’d been here on time,” Derek hissed around teeth that looked far closer to fangs than was necessary. Stiles refused to get his hopes up. Maybe Derek just felt territorial because Stiles was part of his pack and now he smelled like someone else. He glanced at Lydia who had one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised and was staring holes into Derek’s skull.

Scott broke the tension in the room: “So, how do you think we can find them? Until now they just popped up?”

Ah, the demons. Of course, that’s what they’d been talking about. Thank you, Scotty boy, Stiles thought to himself.

Derek merely huffed, sounding exasperated and bordering on annoyed. It was so unusual that Stiles paused where he was leaning over the map of Beacon Hills.

A long time ago, this behaviour would have been normal, but after the pack had strengthened their bond, Stiles always thought Derek was more bark than bite. He loved taking care of people and comforting them whenever needed.

To be that cold to Stiles in particular hurt on a level Stiles didn’t know existed. He had been so used to being Derek’s best friend that not having that kind of relationship anymore hit him hard. Until now, he hadn’t been aware of how distant they had been growing lately.

And it was his fault. He made a mental note to remedy that. Well, if Derek even wanted him too.

“I need you to track them!” Derek bit out suddenly. It occurred to Stiles then, that he had been drifting off. He rolled his eyes. They had discussed tracking methods twice before already, always with the same result: Stiles couldn’t track demons. And especially not sins.

“I get that you want to hit them before they hit us but there is just no way, okay? I read all the books the library had on the topic. I searched the internet high and low and found nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“But Boyd tracked Sloth to that Spa.” Scott said, desperation pouring into his voice. Stiles understood. He understood perfectly well.

“I looked at camera footage and hospital bills.” The wolf said around a shrug.

“I can’t track them. We’ll just have to wait until one them pops up. The only thing we can do, is prepare for whichever one comes knocking first.” Stiles cringed at the metaphor but there was no going back now that he had said it.

“I won’t just sit back and watch them attack us!” Derek snarled. And Stiles understood, he really did. But he was kind of grasping for straws here and Derek simply refused to back down.

“Listen! I know this is a shitty situation and that you want to be prepared! But there is nothing I can do! I tried my best, alright?” He couldn’t help the defensive tone. It was just- he just felt attacked.

Derek’s eyes narrowed. Under his breath, he murmured: “Did you?” Stiles heart skipped a beat, his breath stopped short.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. Stiles, frozen in place, watched as Lydia ushered everyone out. Hurt burned in his throat. He couldn’t believe Derek would say– would even think– something like that.

“What?” His voice echoed sharply from the walls.

“I-“ Apparently, Derek seemed at a loss for words. Stiles had had enough of this. He didn’t want to feel hurt anymore, didn’t want to defend himself against such an accusation that shattered everything between them. 

“Go on! Tell me that you think I sat on my ass and twiddled my thumbs! Come on! Do it!” Derek winced at the volume.

“I want them gone!”

“And you don’t think I do too? Are you kidding me?” Stiles just couldn’t get behind Derek’s sudden loss of trust in him.

“Fuck, Derek! Have I ever- ever- not done my job? I always do the research! I always do whatever I can to keep our pack save!” He paused, looking at the Alpha with tears in his eyes.

His voice was small, barely audible, when he asked: “Don’t you trust me anymore?” Stiles didn’t know if he feared an answer or no answer more.

“Of course, I trust you…” Derek said. Stiles felt relief wash over him like a wave, hitting him square in the chest.

“Then why are you being like this? Why accuse me of not doing my job?”

“Because I’m desperate!” Derek barked out. Stiles refused to flinch back from the sudden aggression.

“I hate sitting around and waiting for someone to attack. I’m not good at waiting. I just-“ He breathed in deeply, before continuing: “They will get hurt. We almost lost Erica and Boyd. I can’t-“ Stiles saw Derek shiver “I can’t risk losing any of them.”

It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that Derek’s “them” didn’t include him. He wasn’t sure why that hurt so much, only that it did. Like the cherry on top really.

He squashed the pain down as best as he could. His brain started overflowing with words just so that he was deterred from his current thoughts of not belonging to Derek’s inner circle anymore.

“I won’t let that happen. I can look at the books again, okay? I can-“

Derek, whose face had undergone another drastic change as if he remembered suddenly that yelling at Stiles wouldn’t resolve anything, interrupted before he could finish: “No- I- I know you did everything you could.” It sounded an awful lot like back paddling.

“It’s fine- I can-“

“No,” he stalked forward to grab Stiles’ shoulders “It’s alright. I shouldn’t have said it. This isn’t your responsibility and it’s not your fault either, okay? I’m sorry, I said it…”

Maybe he shouldn’t forgive so easily, maybe even stay angry longer but Stiles just couldn’t. He reminded himself time and time again sternly that Derek was his friend, that he needed him to figure this out. There was no place for Stiles’ inconvenient feelings. Derek surely hadn’t meant for it to sound as if Stiles wasn’t really part of his pack.

Nevertheless, Stiles promised to read through his notes again, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and this time, Derek relented. While Stiles was on the way to the door, Derek held him back suddenly, almost like having decided in the last minute there was something else he hadn’t said that needed clarification. Stiles prepared himself for another accusation, when Derek started talking. 

“Stiles-“ he paused, ruffled his hair “I’m really sorry, alright? I want you to be happy.” Stiles didn’t know where that came from. Then he remembered that he still must smell like Lucas and that Derek hadn’t looked all too happy about that when he had entered.

“Even if it’s with that- with Lucas.” Stiles didn’t escape the fact that Derek spat the name out like something foul. Still, the earnest look on his face surprised him.

He realised, guiltily, that he had hoped for Derek to be jealous, to even hurt at the prospect of Stiles dating someone else. Turned out that small voice in his head had been right all along: Derek didn’t want him like that.

“I guess- I just wanted to say…” Derek glanced at him from under his lashes “I’m glad you are happy. You deserve it.” Stiles pressed a hand against his chest were that certain ache was acting up again. He suddenly wished for that seventh sense all the werewolves had just so that he could tell if Derek was lying.

Stiles didn’t doubt, Derek meant what he said, that he wanted him happy and cared if he was. But something felt off. Maybe, he thought, it was just wishful thinking but Derek didn’t appear too fond of Lucas without even knowing him. Still, there was no reason for him to get his hopes up. He was probably imagining the whole thing. Wolves did get territorial after all.

“Thanks.” He didn’t dare say anything else. Otherwise, Derek would come dangerously close to knowing that, while Stiles was happy with Lucas, he also still harboured feelings for the Alpha.

He reprimanded himself. That wasn’t fair to Lucas. Or to Derek for that matter either. He needed to let this stupid crush go and commit, for all participants– knowing and otherwise.

Derek was his friend.

And that’s all he was ever going to be.

* * *

The light on the porch was lit when Stiles came home. He was glad. His Dad stood at the stove and waved at him when he entered the kitchen.

“Nice pack meeting, son?” Stiles didn’t particularly feel like telling him the truth so he evaded the question and instead leant over the pot to see its contents.

“What are you making?” because, to Stiles, it looked like a strange mix of noodles, potatoes and carrots?

“Uh, I thought we could have some casserole?” Stiles suppressed a giggle.

“A casserole? Dad do you even know what a casserole’s supposed to look like?” He couldn’t believe this. The last time his dad had tried to cook it had ended up with the local fire department showing up.

“Why don’t you sit down and lemme make it?” He stirred the pot “Or try to salvage it?” Even though he wasn’t all too sure he could.

“I- that’s not really how this was supposed to go. You always cook, so I thought I could do it too.” Stiles appreciated the sentiment. Still, he placed his father at the kitchen table and made his way to the fridge to see if they had any meat in it. Everything tasted better with meat.

“By the way, did you have any more sins running around?” His father asked from the newspaper crossword he hadn’t finished this morning.

“Ah no, Derek’s going up walls because everything’s quiet.”

“I can see that.” Who couldn’t? If there was one thing Derek disliked, it was waiting for shit to hit the fan.

“I tried tracking them but I couldn’t even get a hold of them. It’s strange. Like they know I’m trying and are purposefully evading. I can’t really explain it.”

“I know, son. But you’re doing the best you can. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” As if it was that easy.

“I just- I don’t see how they do it. It’s like they suddenly pop up without any preamble. If we at least knew which one was next…”

“Didn’t you say the sacrifices had to be in a specific order?” His Dad said casually. About a million lightbulbs and a whole chandelier lit up in Stiles’ head simultaneously.

“Dad!”

His father nearly threw the newspaper, being startled by the sudden outburst: “What? What did I say?”

“Order! There is an order! Fuck!” the muttered “Language” was ignored. Stiles grabbed his phone and sent out a quick group text then sprinted up to his room but not before yelling:

“Stir the pot every five minutes so it doesn’t burn!”

Back in his room, he found what he was searching for rather quickly. The book lay open still from where had been reading the pages until he had fallen asleep on top of it, two nights before. Now, the letters seemed to scream at him. He had a hard time concentrating even though is brain was eager to learn. Finally, he found the list he had marked with a pencil cross on the centre of the page.  


_Gluttony_

_Sloth_

_Pride_

So, Pride would be next. He didn’t know if relief was the right name for the emotion he was feeling. While he never heard of anyone dying because they were too prideful, he also didn’t want to underestimate the sin. The book mentioned the sins being ordered by their level of harm and, according to this, pride was only way down low. Ironically, Stiles thought to himself, the personified demon wouldn’t like not being at the top of any list.

He waited to share his revelation, simply to see if his sources were compliant with each other, and it was late anyway.

Pride hadn’t come rolling in an hour ago, he, or she, wouldn’t do so just now.

* * *

At least that’s what he thought. And, as it turned out, he was quite wrong in assuming that disaster would wait to hit just because he was asleep. Jackson called at three in the morning, telling him that he went to a drive-in and people were acting strange.

Apparently, after having asked for a refill of his drink, the cashier had refused, stating that he was too good a guy to work here and had simply walked out while flinging his apron to the ground. Stiles huffed, he could vividly imagine the scene. He didn’t know if he should feel impressed by Jackson having figured it out without any help.

Not that Pride was so easy to recognise. Props to the wolf for putting two and two together so quickly. Just then he realised what Jackson’s call meant.

“Get out of there! Jackson, I mean it. Get the fuck out of there!” God, he really didn’t need Jackson falling back into his god-complex again.

“Relax, Stilinski. Do you really think I’m that daft? I’m already in my car so you can chill out.” Well, thank fuck for that. But Stiles knew deep down that Jackson, out of all of them, was the most afraid of which sin he would be tempted by and what it would mean about him. 

“Do you think, I was the target?” Jackson suddenly sounded incredibly small, speaking quietly as if he would shatter something if he raised his voice. Stiles contemplated the question, being unsure himself.

“Do you feel any different? Did anybody touch you?”

“No. I would have told you that already.”

“Did you see someone?”

“Do you mean: did I see someone touching people and kicking off a sin-bath? No, I think that would have been a rather significant thing to miss, don’t you?” Stiles rolled his eyes. He needn’t be so sarcastic about it.

“Well, apparently you don’t need Pride to touch you. Can do that all by yourself…” Jackson huffed a relieved chuckle.

“Idiot.”

“Love ya too.”

Stiles was about to hang up, it was three am after all, when Jackson said: “I’m almost home…”

“Okay?”  
“Just- I still think I might be infected. You know? Maybe it just hits late.” The worry audible in his voice softened Stiles’ heart a bit.

Then, he realised: “Jackson-“ he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before “You asked for help. You’re not infected. If Pride is running around already, you wouldn’t have called. Or walked out. Or would feel self-conscious about it.”

At least if Stiles had interpreted the premise of the sin correctly. Jackson pondered on it until Stiles heard him climb out of the Porsche. He hadn’t asked why on earth Jackson was even at the drive-in at this time, and he didn’t want to know either.

Ever since setting his pride aside and joining the pack, Jackson had changed for the better. Unfortunately, that included random late-night activities, Stiles suspected, the wolf had trouble sleeping since he was still traumatised by his time as the Kanima. So, no questions were asked, unless Jackson specifically wanted him to.

Stiles hit himself: “Wait a minute!”

He heard Jackson curse: “What the fuck? You don’t need to yell!” He could picture the wolf palming his chest in an attempt to soothe the beating of his heart. Jackson didn’t do well with jump scares.

“You’re not the target. That’s redundant!”

“What drugs are you on?” Jackson interfered “I’m the most shallow, egotistical person, as you told me yourself.” Stiles wanted to drive over and hug him when he heard the self-loathing words.

“No- listen: I’ll give you that, you were an egotistical asshole but you changed. You admitted you were wrong, joined Derek as a Beta. Jackson- you’re not prideful, not anymore.” And maybe he would always be a little bit prideful in little ways, like his Porsche, but, Stiles thought, never in the ways that counted.

“Do you really think that?” Hope. That was what he sounded like at that very moment in his garage, at three in the morning. And Stiles was hit with a wave of sentiment, when he realised how far Jackson had come.

“Yes.” he confirmed with absolute sincerity.

“Ok. Night.”

Stiles hadn’t expected anything less than the clipped answer. The wolf still didn’t do well with talking about his feelings and Stiles wouldn’t force him to. That was a demon, he would tackle another day.

* * *

To everyone’s surprise, no pack meeting was called. Lydia asked Stiles over the phone if he knew the reason, but Stiles had to disappoint. Usually, he would be the one Derek would have talked to, but Stiles suspected they were still not on good terms. Lucas asked if Stiles was free to come over and he agreed. It felt good being held, being kissed like he was worth everything in the world.

“Do I get to meet those ominous friends of yours?”

Several different alarm bells went off in Stiles’ head at the question. While he would like for Lucas to meet them, he also knew that this was not a matter of wants but of safety. He might be halfway sure that Lucas was no evil entity, but he had been wrong before. It was, in any case, too early.

Unfortunately, that was the precise moment when Derek rounded a corner and stopped short with a basket in his hand. Lucas and Stiles had been shopping for a snack to take on their stroll through town, sandwiches and maybe some sweets. Seeing Derek of all people made his heart do a funny flip that had Derek’s eyes glued to his chest in an instant.

“Stiles?” He wanted to be anywhere but here. This was a situation he had really hoped to postpone as much as possible.

“You must be Derek,” Lucas said, all polite and easy smile. It fell flat against Derek’s scowl.

“Stiles has told me so much about you.” Stiles felt hot all over. Had he really? God, he’d need one hell of a lucky streak if Derek didn’t think that odd.

 _Please_ , he prayed to whoever was listening, let that not be the day Derek finds out how much he means to Stiles.

“Lucas, I take it?” Did the Alpha sound so hostile? Or was it simply Stiles’ imagination running wild?

Lucas didn’t seem fazed by the sudden metaphorical drop in temperature and continued to tell Derek about how awesome a person Stiles is. Derek’s eyes, however, never left Stiles and the scrutiny got to him on a personal level.

“I have to go,” Derek suddenly said. Stiles didn’t know what had set him off but, apparently, Lucas didn’t either. The Alpha was gone in a heartbeat without any further inkling as to what was wrong.

“Huh. Is he always that-“ Lucas was apparently at a loss for words. Stiles couldn’t fault him, he wasn’t all too sure what was going on either.

“No- I don’t know. Maybe he forgot to turn off the stove or something?” He wondered, though, if there had been something Lucas had said that Derek hadn’t liked. After a conversation with Lydia, he decided not to think too much about it.

Maybe Derek just had had a bad day, who knew?

* * *

The whole of the next day Stiles spent sitting on hot charcoals, worried that if he relaxed a call would come of someone dying because they had been too prideful. As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long. Erica came running up to his porch and pulled him out of the house. She shoved him into the Camaro, hit the gas and drove them to the loft in, what felt to Stiles, like a matter of seconds. Derek opened with a grim expression and placed a file in Stiles’ hands.

“Two dead.” Was all he got before he saw the damage. The images were atrocious, blood everywhere.

“How?”

“Killed each other. Witnesses say they’d been fighting about something stupid. Both too prideful to admit they were wrong.” Stiles groaned. Of all the things. He felt stupid for even hoping Pride wouldn’t turn out to be deadly. Of course, he should have known better, it was one of the deadly sins after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped at Derek, who had kept scowling the whole time he watched Stiles skip through the police report.

“I told you yesterday already who was going to be next. Jackson saw the effects last night. You were the one who didn’t want a pack meeting.” Derek’s scowl somehow deepened, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been strolling around town doing nothing with your boyfriend, you would have figured out a method to kill all of them already.” Stiles was left flabbergasted and readied himself to tell Derek exactly where he could put his shitty attitude, when Lydia interrupted.

“Accusations are not what we need right now!”

“Yeah, Derek. S’ not like you’re perfect,” Scott suddenly piped up, a snarl in his voice. Stiles thought for a moment, Scott was angry because Derek was being an asshole to him, but upon further inspection, he realised that was not the case.

In the span on the next hour, Scott continuously spat out snide remarks whenever Derek would say really anything at all. Upon asking Scott to explain himself, it turned out, his best friend didn’t think anything was amiss.

“So you don’t think it’s a bit rude to tell Derek he had no idea how to protect his pack because he doesn’t know where Pride is hiding at?” Not that Stiles didn’t think Derek needed to be critiqued every now and then, especially is he was behaving like an asshole, but this was going a bit far.

“No, why? I mean, he was the one who let Isaac and Boyd get infected.” That was a stretch Stiles didn’t feel comfortable making. Say what you want about Derek, but this was going a bit far.

It all came to a head when Scott snorted after Derek had asked the pack to patrol the streets for any sign of demon-related activity.

“What good’s that gonna do? We’re all gonna be tired in the morning and for what?” He got up from the couch, “For nothing!” With that, he walked out and slammed the door shut.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled after him but the wolf didn’t come back. The conversation had halted and everyone was staring at the door.

Suddenly, Allison let out a wholehearted: “Fuck!”

Stiles whipped around to her, startled by the curse word Allison rarely ever used.

“What?” Lydia sounded as confused as Stiles felt.

But Allison just kept mumbling “shit, shit, shit” to herself. Erica, who had been pretty quiet the whole time through, put a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention. Allison looked up at her, a grimace on her face: “Don’t you get it?”

Collective headshakes.

“Pride. Don’t you get it? He must have met Pride!” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at that. No. No, no, no. Scotty? Really? Of all the people?

But the longer he thought about it, the more sense it made. From the very beginning, Scott had been sceptical of Derek, even of Stiles, insisting time and time again that he knew better, that everyone else was wrong.

“What do we do?” Isaac sounded scared all of a sudden. And Stiles understood. While Sloth had put Boyd in danger of death by starvation, Pride could get Scott killed much faster. Isaac, of all people knew how it felt to be touched by that need to sin, it was no wonder he would be agitated.

Stiles didn’t like admitting he had no idea what to do about Scott, other than trying to keep an eye on him so that he wouldn’t get into unnecessary fights. Derek pulled him aside and said to watch out for the demon, as if Stiles had anymore idea than he did where the bastard was located.

Not that Scott would give them any information on how it had happened, since that meant he would have to admit he had indeed been touched, which, ironically, his pride wouldn’t let him do.

* * *

The phone rang at two in the morning. Stiles had gone to bed early, unable to fall asleep for a long time until finally, he could rest. As it turned out, the pleasure wasn’t granted for too long. Because Derek had run into something throwing lightning bolts at him in the preserve. Stiles had the urge to say something snarky but was simply too tired to do so.

“Where?” was all he asked before throwing on a coat and running to his Jeep. Only when he jumped out of the car to find Derek lying on the floor and trembling as if electro-shocks were going through his system, did he realise he had no shoes on.

“Derek? Derek- fuck!” The wolf’s eyes were closed and the shockwaves didn’t subside. Stiles reached out but remembered in the last second before he touched him that the lightning likely would be transferred to him. It occurred to him then that he simply had to wait it out. Derek was, sadly enough, used to electricity running through his system. Stiles sincerely hoped, he’d sit up any minute now and shake it off. In reality, it lasted about five minutes until Derek sat up.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, buddy.” He knelt down beside Derek, carefully touching the slowly fading lines of thunder across his skin.

“Got you good, did it?” Derek nodded, hand gripping Stiles’ where it traced the lines.

“Thunder God, I think. Didn’t get a good look though.” Stiles didn’t care what it had been, only that Derek was better and not dead on the ground like imagined he would be when he found him.

“Why are you even out here alone? The patrols didn’t include the preserve and Isaac’s home. You could have taken him with you.” He couldn’t help the slightly accusatory tone, but he was getting sick of seeing Derek hurt.

“I was running.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Yes.” His tone bore no room for argument.

“Needed to get my head clear. Couldn’t sleep.” Derek seemed to fold in on himself when he finally spilled what was on his mind in a way that reminded Stiles painfully of late-night conversations that had stopped happening precisely after that awful night it had all gone to shit.

“You have no shoes.” Derek suddenly said. Stiles looked down, surprised by the sudden mood shift.

“Wasn’t on my mind when you called. Kinda hard to concentrate when you hear someone get hit by lightning.” A smile ghosted over Derek’s lips. It was all the warning Stiles got before he was lifted off the ground and thrown over Derek’s shoulder. The squeak that escaped him was very masculine and not at all embarrassing.

Derek carried him to the car, set him down on the driver seat and picked stones and splinters out of his soles without a word. The situation was strangely intimate. Stiles bit his lip in an effort to stop the warmth in his chest from spreading. He didn’t want to feel like this.

He had worked so hard to stop it. And now, Derek was ruining it with his stupid consideration. The drive back was quiet, but not uncomfortably so.

“Did you send the group text already?” Stiles asked when he pulled up at Derek’s. The Alpha nodded absentmindedly and it took Stiles a minute to realise he was sniffing around in the car.

“What? I washed the seats since I got the mountain ash from Deaton.” But Derek shook his head and continued to sniff.

“There’s something new in here. I don’t- I think I’ve smelt it before but I don’t know where…” Stiles’ face suddenly flared hot.

“Uh, it’s- it’s probably the new cologne…”

“Don’t lie to me,” Derek snapped. “I hate when you lie to me!”

The conviction with which Derek said it was the only reason Stiles even contemplated admitting the real reason the Jeep smelled differently. Time to spit it out then.

“Lucas.” How one word could change Derek’s mood that drastically was truly impressive. Stiles refused to believe it was because he was jealous.

“Good night, Stiles.” With that he was out of the car and left Stiles thinking that conversations after two am shouldn’t be held.

* * *

As it turned out, Scott had his own opinions on what was on a rampage in the woods. He didn’t even consider listening to what Stiles was trying to tell him on the phone, namely that Derek, who had, in contrast to Scott, been the one to actually meet the creature, had figured out it was a Raijin. 

“You’ve got it wrong! It’s a thunderbird!” Stiles rolled his eyes, huffed an exasperated sigh.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not a thunderbird!” Seriously, Sloth had been a menace but Pride was a whole other level of annoying. Scott had hung up after that, refusing to see Stiles’ point.

Stiles was left fuming silently.

He would have tried to convince him more, would have listened for the subtext better if he had known that Scott was about to go into the woods himself to kill the thunderbird.

In fact, Stiles didn’t even know anything until Isaac came into his house, completely soaking wet and demanded Stiles come with him. The storm outside did nothing to help them find Scott in the midst of leaves flying around and rain pouring down on them.

They met with Derek and the others at their usual spot, splitting up to increase their chances of finding him quickly.

Stiles saw them first. Scott, on the ground and shivering like crazy and a dark figure continuously shooting lightning bolts at him.

Derek had been right.

Derek had been right and Scott had been wrong.

And, judging by the look on Scott’s face, he knew it too.

Meanwhile, Derek stalked forward, all Alpha-prowess and authority and yelled:

“Let him go!” Stiles wouldn’t have approached the God like that and Derek did pay for it by getting almost hit in the chest with another bolt of lightning.

The God just laughed, his voice booming like thunder.

“A thunderbird. Of all your flaws, mortal, stupidity is by far your worst one. For you to even dare compare me to such a foul creature.”

Once again, lightning struck. Stiles’ hairs stood on end, his blood rushed in his ears. It didn’t look good for them. Derek was still frozen in place and watching Scott writhe on the ground. Stiles had to hold onto his arms to keep from running forward.

A clicking sound echoed through the woods. Stiles would have recognised it anywhere, but he needed a moment to make out the source of the sound. He saw Derek’s arm raised, a gun in his hand, pointed at the God. The Raijin was still laughing at him, seemingly unaware that Derek had hit his target full on.

Slowly, the colour faded from the God’s face, his figure wavering. He cursed, threw another fist of electricity, this time in Derek’s direction.

For naught, since he, unlike the Alpha, missed his target.

“You’ll burn in hell for that! Creature! You can’t kill a God!”

Derek smiled and Stiles thought he had never looked more terrifying.

“Watch me!” With that, he fired a second time, the bullet hitting what was left of the God in the head. He exploded in a burst of light, letting lose a scream roaring like thunder. Then he was gone.

“I’m sorry, okay?” From the ground, Scott suddenly yelled over the world ending around them.

Stiles barely heard him but he realised, he must have said something important since he saw Derek stiffen beside him.

“You were right, I was wrong and I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright…” Derek looked like someone who didn’t know what to do with themselves.

“No- it’s not! I should have listened, you always tried to help me, to make me a better wolf and I didn’t listen because I thought, I had it all figured out. But I was wrong! I should have tried, I should have listened! Derek, I’m really sorry!” He closed the distance between them, a tree to their left falling with the sound of thunder against the rain.

“You’re a good Alpha! I couldn’t imagine anyone better and I’m glad you gave me another chance!” Scott flung his arms around Derek and pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down his face.

To Stiles, it resembled an older brother comforting the younger one. A warm feeling spread in his chest.

Finally. It was high time, Scott saw what all of them had been seeing all along. That Derek was a great Alpha, one who just needed a push here and there, but a great one nonetheless.

“It’s okay.” Stiles heard Derek mumble, obviously overwhelmed with the sudden turn of events. Stiles remembered an evening, not too long ago, where Derek had confided in him. He had voiced his worry about being not good enough to lead the pack, that Scott in particular gave him the impression that he was doing everything wrong.

To see them rekindle on such a grand scale was more than he could have ever wished for.

* * *

Back at home, thoroughly drenched and trying desperately to dry off, Stiles’ mind wandered to the rings the demons wore with their names on it. Lydia had said they would be important later, but what if there was even more to it?

Scott had told them on the way home that he had met Pride in the bank, posing as a high-profile client in a suit and with sunglasses on, a Rolex on his arm. He had shaken Scott’s hand, without Scott realising it was Pride and had sauntered out a moment later. Stiles listened eagerly to his description of the guy. When Scott admitted to feeling as if he couldn’t talk to them because he was too proud to tell he hadn’t been paying attention, Stiles felt for him.

It was, not for nothing, a demon of sorts. Still, after that incident in the woods, from which Scott was still shivering, he was confident, that this particular sin had been overcome.

* * *

An idea occurred to him two days later, still pondering over the deaths of three other citizens who had shot each other over money, that was so simple, it almost made him chuckle. What if they simply removed all the rings? Would the demon still exist without it on?

He contemplated for a moment if it was somehow correlating, if maybe the ring was somehow a part of the demon.

He vowed to test the theory, once he managed to find out where Pride was currently hiding at. If hiding was even the right word. A guy like him did not hide, Stiles realised. The answer was seemingly so close to the surface of the haywire chaos that was his brain. Without consciously deciding, he had dialled the number of the most prestigious hotel in town.

The clerk informed him of precisely nothing, not that Stiles was surprised, but he did give one vital clue: the guests’ behaviour.

Apparently, people were starting to get offended when presented with the bill at check-out, yelled at waiters because they weren’t served first, when other guests had been waiting and so on.

Stiles would have bet all the money he didn’t have that Pride was lurking around there somewhere.

* * *

The trip was quickly planned, but this time, Stiles sent Scott in with specific instructions.

He watched inside the hotel’s lobby, how Scott walked up to a guy in an expansive coat, looking for all the world as if he wasn’t the centre of the chaos currently erupting around him. Stiles bit his lip, heart nearly beating out of his chest.

He hated having to sit on the sideline and watch one of his friends come so close to someone so deadly. But Scott was swift. He didn’t give the demon even a moment’s notice before cutting off his finger with the ring on it.

The scream that Pride let loose had nothing human in it. Chandeliers burst, lightbulbs shattered. And Stiles watched as the human façade faded and a creature appeared, thin with long claws and horns like a crown on its head. Pride, in its true form, stared at Scott, a nasty grin on its face and pulled back to hit Scott over the head.

Allison was faster. The arrow hit it in the chest, making it pause.

Scott ducked away.

Isaac and Boyd approached,

Erica appeared suddenly behind it, from where she had been hiding.

Stiles didn’t see which of them dealt the final blow but suddenly, there was a gurgling sound and then nothing anymore. The demon disintegrated into dust, right there on the chair.

Nothing but black particles remained.

* * *

Stiles examined the ring in hand and scoffed. Of course, the ring of Pride would look outrageously unpractical.

By contrast, Sloth’s was overtly simply, while Gluttony’s was massive. All three of them in hand he inspected the inscriptions. Carved in the same handwriting, but each different in style, just like the rings themselves.

Stiles felt their weight against his palm and locked them away, hiding the box under his bed.

_They would come in handy, he just knew it._


	5. Lust (Luxuria) Tease me! Touch me! Love me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to preface that in this chapter there is an implied / attempted assault (not graphic), so if that is a trigger for you, please be careful if you decide to go on reading.

_“Kiss her, until her mouth no longer knows how to ask for more…”_

__

The next day began marvellously and Stiles was tempted to think he had woken up in a parallel universe. Good things just didn’t happen with such frequency.

First, his father had served him chocolate muffins in bed, as way of an apology for working so much.

Second, he saw, his order from Amazon was being delivered today instead of tomorrow and he really had been looking forward to the collectors-edition of the Batman-series.

Third, Lucas called and wanted to spend the day with him, asking him to meet in the park and to bring a blanket. 

Maybe that should have given him a warning, Stiles thought to himself later, but for the time being, he simply enjoyed having things go smoothly for once.

Oh and, it did start of well enough. Lucas greeted him with a soft kiss on the lips that felt nice and proceeded to walk him to a spot in the park where Stiles could see some ducks in the lake a few steps in front of him. The sun was out and shining softly down on them, the food was good, some of it even great, and Lucas let him steal some of his Hershey’s.

“So- I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something…” About seven different alarm bells went off in his head, three of them telling him to run screaming for the hills. He remained seated however. Barely.

“No need to panic. I just- I want to meet your friends.” Stiles managed to quiet one of the continuously ringing tones in his brain, but the others almost drowned out everything else.

He coughed out a “Why?” and watched Lucas’ eyebrows climb up into his hairline in a manner he knew all too well and wasn’t particularly fond of.

“Because they’re your friends. You constantly spend time with them– and that’s great, don’t get me wrong– I’m not jealous or anything– but I really want to get to know them.” Stiles wanted to argue that he hadn’t met Lucas’ friends either but then remembered that he was new in town, or at least that’s what he had been told– there was still that voice in his head that didn’t quite believe it.

“It’s– they are just…”

“Look, I’m not asking so I can steal your friends from you or because I haven’t socialised in a while.” Stiles disguised the snort as another cough. If that was his biggest worry, he’d be one lucky bastard.

“Or whatever it is that has you so worried. I promise, I just want to meet them.” He paused, eyes darting to Stiles’ nervously: “Not like that time I met Derek. He kinda seemed…” the hand gesture that followed the statement was nothing Stiles could interpret.

He somehow doubted he would like the meaning behind it. First impressions were not Derek’s strong suit after all, and he had been rather rude to Lucas the last time they had met. Still, having those two even in the same vicinity wasn’t a situation Stiles thought would be comfortable.

Not to mention that Derek, for some reason, seemed to hate the way Lucas’ smelled, talked and did everything really. At least that was what Stiles had gathered from their brief interaction.

“Let me–“ he scrambled for his phone, shooting a quick and maybe halfway hysterical text to Lydia asking for advice.

“I’m not in a hurry…” Lucas concluded, completely relaxed and laid-back.

_We can do pack movie night with him. In two days? Maybe pizza? Talk to Derek._

Her last message glared at him from the screen. He didn’t want to have that particular conversation with the Alpha, considering how they had parted on bad terms after that disaster he refused to think about.

“I’ll have to talk to Derek, but maybe in two days? We have a–“ he bit his tongue, this close to saying “pack night” and hoped Lucas remained as oblivious as he looked.

“Pizza?” he croaked out instead, around the water that had found its way down the wrong pipe. Lucas pat his back and nodded somewhat enthusiastically. Stiles wasn’t sure if he liked the way he seemed genuinely happy to meet his friends.

* * *

“No.” Stiles huffed, refrained from rolling his eyes and watched Derek pace around in his living room.

“You don’t know him that well. He could be a demon, a shifter, a dread doctor!” Well, now he was just being unnecessarily dramatic.

“He’s my boyfriend.” Stiles said, quite simply and saw the scowl deepen on Derek’s forehead.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” He must have realised the comment hurt Stiles because he immediately backpaddled: “I didn’t– that came out wrong. I just meant that there are people out there who seem nice and sweet but…” he gestured vaguely, but Stiles understood anyway.

That had been another reason why he had avoided this specific conversation, ever since Derek had wrinkled his nose at Lucas’ smell in the Jeep.

“I get that, Derek.” And he did. It’s why he had been reluctant to go out with Lucas in the first place.

“But we can’t live like that or we’ll be isolated before we know it.” almost as an afterthought, he added: “Not everyone is out to get us.”

“Funny.” Judging by the gravel in Derek’s voice, it was anything but “I said the same thing about Jennifer.”

Stiles desperately hoped his heart hadn’t skipped at the name. Not because he was afraid of her anymore but because the memory of Derek kissing her still hurt.

“And look where that got us.”

“I know…” There really wasn’t anything else to say, anything to ease the pain in Derek’s eyes with. Silence settled heavily between them.

“Do you really want us to meet him?” Derek asked suddenly. “Is it really what _you_ want?” Stiles didn’t know how to answer that, Derek’s inflection implying that he knew the answer was likely that Lucas wanted it and not Stiles himself. He would like for his friends to approve, or to hang out with Lucas too but Derek had always been an exception.

“Yes.” he said and immediately realised that Derek had heard the lie.

He was about to launch into a lengthy monologue, when Derek said: 

“He can come over.” Stiles stopped mid-breath, completely shocked by this turn of events.

Why was Derek agreeing to this? When it had been so clear that Stiles himself wasn’t sold on the idea.

“If that’s really what you want…” Derek let the sentence hang in the air, turned on his heel and walked to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him without another word. Stiles was left standing in the living room, completely at odds with what had just happened. It took a minute but then he got a move on, feeling stupid standing in Derek’s flat for no reason.

All the way home, he replayed what had happened and came to the conclusion that he still had no idea why Derek would ever agree after so obviously dissecting the lie.

Playing with the keys to his front door, he decided then to call Erica and ask for her advice, since he had already heeded Lydia’s.

“You want to bring your boyfriend to Derek’s in two days?” her tone boarded on incredulous and Stiles worked hard not to let it offend him.

“Why for fuck’s sake would you do that?”

Okaaay? Stiles quickly got the feeling he had somehow managed to make a horrible miscalculation.

“Uh.” was his coherent contribution, before Erica screeched into the receiver in an attempt to shred his eardrums.

“Are you stupid, Stilinski? Why on earth would you do that?”

“I just–“

“No! No! Forget I even asked!” And with that, she hung up. Stiles stared at his screen, utterly confused and more than a little hurt. After remaining in this position for the next five minutes and not being able to figure out where he went wrong, he did the only sensible thing: he called Lydia.

“I- I just got off the phone with Erica and…” he breathed in deeply, the sting in his chest even sharper now.

“I think she’s angry with me…” he hated sounding so small. But if felt like his friend had just shoved him away, without any reason.

“Why would she be angry at you?”

“I don’t know-“ A hysterical note crept up in his voice.

“What did you say to her?” He appreciated her reasonable logic, he really did, especially since he was about to freak out.

“I just- I talked to Derek and he said if that’s what I wanted, he’d let Lucas come to movie night but he didn’t say goodbye after and just went to his room, so, I thought, I’d call Erica and see what she thinks of that. Just– cause she knows him so well and he tells her stuff. But she yelled at me and asked me why the fuck I would do that and when I wanted to explain, she just said to forget she had even asked.” he was out of breath when he finished.

There was a faint clicking sound on the other line, where Lydia was tapping her nails against the counter.

“I just don’t get it! What did I say?”

“Hm,” was all the answer he got and it angered him to no ends.

“What do you mean hm? Lydia! That isn’t an answer!”

“Listen, I need to get confirmation on something before I can help you.” A sudden beep-tone let him know that she had ended the call. Once again, he stared at his phone, incredulously and contemplated what was wrong today.

Rage mixed with a good ounce of frustration hit him square in the chest.

“Seriously?” Fucking seriously? Why did everybody hang up on him today? He slammed his phone down on his desk, furious with the world and himself for reasons unknown.

* * *

A knock on his front door got his attention while attempting to make sense of his assignment while hanging with his head down from the couch. He startled so badly that he hit his shin on the coffee table and hobbled to the door cursing wildly.

To his surprise, he was met with Erica looking contrite and inviting herself inside without waiting for an answer or for Stiles to step aside and let her through. She fell onto the couch in a dramatic movement and gestured for Stiles to sit down beside her.

“I’m sorry, alright. I shouldn’t have hung up.” Stiles was still leaning in the doorway and couldn’t believe his ears. This day was getting stranger by the minute.

“I just don’t get it.” Before Stiles could even attempt to explain, Erica already continued.

“You have someone who wants you– for you– and you throw that away to get with someone else. And for what? So that you get experience? Because you want to prove something?” Stiles officially had no idea what was going on. This must be a misunderstanding.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, come on, don’t act as if you don’t know.” Her voice took on an angry note.

“I’m not acting! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I have no idea what’s going on!” Stiles threw his hands in the air, exasperated with the situation. He just wanted to know why Erica was so hostile to him, damn it.

“You’re not lying.” Erica said, sounding incredulous while she stared at his chest.

“No! Why would I?”

But Erica ignored his comment to curse: “Shit!”

“Can you _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on?” He was met with a pair of eyes shimmering slightly golden in the low light. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t for Erica to say:

“I’m sorry.” She reached out, all anger gone suddenly.

“I thought you knew and were playing him. I had no idea you didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what? You’re not making any sense!”

“Derek.” His heart beat up to his throat at the mention of the name. He didn’t want to talk about him, not now, when he almost felt like he could live with never being loved by him.

“I thought you were doing this to hurt him, or that you were just playing around and didn’t give a fuck that he’s hurting, but I guess, I was wrong…”

“Did you hit your head somewhere?” Stiles couldn’t help the snarky question, hissed out around his teeth. The ache in his chest grew steadily.

“Did _you_?” Erica quipped back. “Because, honestly? You are the one who’s so oblivious that he hurt himself and Derek in the process. Just because you can’t open your eyes.”

“That’s not true!” Stiles yelled. He wanted for this conversation to end.

“Derek doesn’t want me. He is my friend, nothing more and I didn’t hurt him!” Stiles was not proud for stomping to his room without another word and slamming the door. He didn’t care if Erica was still in his living room or waiting for him to come back out.

But he needed to be alone, needed to fight those tears before they fell. He couldn’t start hoping again.

Lucas was his boyfriend.

_Lucas. Lucas. Lucas._

* * *

The girls had dragged Isaac and Stiles to the mall to get some “male input” as they had called it. Not that the boys didn’t come willingly. They rather liked spending time with the girls, gossiping for a bit and just having a good time.

After strolling around, Lydia proclaimed that Allison needed a new dress, without mentioning the reason was that Scott was about to propose in a restaurant sometime in the next weeks. Erica wanted a new leather skirt and Isaac browsed through the scarf sections.

While the air was tense between Stiles and Erica, he tried his best not to let it ruin the day. Instead of being mad at her and confused by her actions, he decided to get over it and avoid topics with potential heartbreak on the line.

He was with Lucas, Derek didn’t give a fuck and that’s the way it was staying.

She would meet Lucas and realise that he was better for Stiles than anything he had ever had this far and that Derek wasn’t interested anyway. It was better for everyone involved to just get along and Stiles deserved to be with someone who wanted him back. He just hoped Erica wasn’t too mad about him running out of the room.

His worry– it turned out– was not necessary since Erica slung an arm around him, squeezed once and whispered:

“I’m sorry okay? Really? I’ll try to understand from now on.” Something in her voice sounded sad, resigned even.

“I just– you’ve got it wrong, you know?” he hoped Isaac wasn’t listening.

“Derek doesn’t like me that way. I didn’t hurt him. I just wanted someone to want me back.” If the expression on her face was any indication, Erica understood.

Stiles vividly remembered the first time Boyd had complimented her hair and the blinding– almost unbelieving– smile on her face.

“We’ll figure it out, promise.” She said and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Stiles didn’t want to find out what they would figure out at the moment, so he didn’t press. He watched her saunter off, joining Lydia on her hunt for clothes.

They were currently waiting for Allison trying on the dresses Lydia had strongly recommended when a dainty girl suddenly came up to Erica, who was re-applying her lipstick in the mirror. Stiles thought to himself that she looked quite pretty without her lipstick too but if she wanted to wear it, then that was no one’s decision but hers. And it’s not like she wasn’t beautiful with it on either.

The girl leaned in, a hand on Erica’s shoulder and said: “God, I love your lipstick. It’s so pretty.” Stiles watched Erica blush in the mirror and suppressed a smile. He was glad she was being complimented.

“Thanks.”

“Can you tell me which brand it is?” Stiles tuned out at this point, when Lydia suddenly nudged him with her elbow.

“What do you think? The blue or the purple?” Allison was whirling around in a blue dress, while Lydia held up a purple one. Isaac grinned and voted for blue, Lydia for purple and Stiles was now supposed to act as tie-breaker.

Well, duty called. 

They went for lunch in a nearby café, ordering coffee and some cake slices that Lydia eyed critically before digging in. A guy came up to Erica in their booth and asked for her phone number, which she provided with a smile wide enough to reach her ears. Stiles looked at Isaac and was met with a raised brow.

He too thought it strange but hey, if Erica liked the guy, she could very well text him. If only there was a way to tell Boyd that the love of his life apparently wasn’t interested anymore.

They had been dancing around each other and after the Sloth-incident, Stiles had hoped they would get their act together, but that had been, frustratingly enough, not the case.

* * *

Lucas was sweating profusely beside Stiles in the car. Even though he himself had insisted on meeting Stiles’ friends, he was now a nervous wreck. Stiles did his best to ease the tension but it didn’t seem to work.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said for the millionth time, thinking privately that they’d be lucky if that was the case.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m never this nervous.” Stiles didn’t have anything to say to that but suspected it had either to do with Derek or the fact that Lucas was literally walking into a wolf den to meet a pack. And while he wasn’t aware of that little fact, they certainly emitted an aura of wolf pack wherever they went.

“Just- I have a bad feeling…” Stiles bit his lip before he could blurt out that this was literally Lucas’ own fault.

“We’re here.” he said instead and if he had werewolf hearing he would have heard Lucas’ heart beating out of his chest.

“Come on, they won’t bite,” Well, not if Lydia kept a tight rein on them.

Isaac opened the door and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the genuine smile on his face.

“You must be Lucas,” the wolf greeted the newcomer “I’m Isaac, nice to meet you.” Unfortunately, not everyone was so forthcoming and Stiles vowed to take Isaac out for dinner sometime soon for being such a nice person.

“Lucas.” Derek didn’t offer his hand.

“Derek.” Lucas said, tone colder than Stiles had ever heard it be. He couldn’t decide which of them glared at the other harder. Though why there was such animosity between them was unclear to him.

“I’m Erica,” the blonde wolf grinned at Lucas with a hint of fang that Stiles didn’t approve of. Lucas visibly shivered, obviously intimidated by her.

“Lucas, come sit with me.” Lydia, thank God for her, motioned him over to sit beside her, throwing Stiles a glance that helped him relax a bit.

Scott and Allison were their perfect goofy selves, all dimpled smiles and easy laughter. Stiles could have kissed them.

Jackson, on the other hand, was a different matter. He hadn’t introduced himself and had instead opted to pace through the room, sneaking suspicious glances at Lucas until Stiles pulled him aside. 

“Can you stop glaring daggers at him?” Jackson huffed but kept his eyes on Lucas.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I like you!”

“Barely.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s also not the point.” Stiles said, putting an arm around Jackson’s shoulders.

“I like him and I want you to like him too. So, stop being an ass and introduce yourself.” Jackson looked as if he wanted to strangle someone, preferably Lucas if the twitch in his hands was anything to go by.

“If he makes one wrong move, he’s out.” Jackson promised (read: threatened) and marched towards the couch where Lydia raised one of her expressive eyebrows.

In the meantime, Boyd of all people had set a beer in front of Lucas and was now listening to him talk about something or other. Stiles made another memo to thank him.

That left Derek.

“Hey,” Stiles said, a weird feeling in his gut that just wouldn’t settle when he approached him where he was hiding in the kitchen.

“I heard you talking to Jackson.” Derek muttered, still not looking up from whatever he was doing with his hands. Stiles suspected he was pretending to wash dishes.

“Yeah?”

“He’s not wrong, you know?” Oh great, not this again.

“Listen, I know you don’t like him because he’s new and whatnot but can you please, just for once, give him a chance?” He was not in the mood to watch Derek be an asshole all evening.

Derek mumbled: “It’s not because he is new…”

“Whatever the reason is. I just- can you please try? Just for tonight?” The “for me” was left unsaid but Derek seemed to catch it anyway. He huffed something akin to a “yes” and power walked towards the living room. Just before he reached the door, he turned and looked at Stiles with a glint in his eyes that Stiles wanted to describe as mischievous.

It was rather a ridiculous sight, the Alpha stiffly holding out his hand and nearly breaking Lucas’ in the process of shaking it. Especially, since they had in fact greeted each other already, but who Stiles to complain?

At least they were talking.

It didn’t take long for things to go south after that and precisely no one– least of all Stiles– was surprised. Scott went out to get pizza, since Derek was against too many restaurants knowing his addresses and a movie was playing that Stiles didn’t pay any attention to.

The reason for that was him being in a predicament of sorts he had never imagined being in. He was currently squished in the middle between Lucas and Derek, either arm pressing into his ribs and making his skin burn. And while he could admit that the couch wasn’t the largest one on the planet, this kind of bodily contact was not necessary.

Derek moved then, leaning in closely and asked in a hushed whisper: “Do you want something to drink? I can-“

“There’s no need for you to stand up. Stiles, do you want beer or a sprite?” Lucas interrupted as if to show Derek, he knew better which drink to get Stiles.

“Uh, a beer?” Even though, he wasn’t all too sure if adding alcohol to this cocktail of proximity and– quite frankly– hormones was the best idea.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucas said, a note in his voice that held much more gravel than it usually did. He leaned in, before standing up to press a hard kiss to Stiles’ mouth that made Stiles flush. Derek barely disguised the growl in his throat and glared at Lucas when he had his back turned.

“Since when are you into PDA?” he wanted to know.

Ah, Stiles thought, that is why he was being so hostile: he thought Lucas was pressuring Stiles into something he didn’t want. He shrugged, not in the mood to explain that he wasn’t that much a fan of PDA either but hardly wanted to complain, knowing full well that Jackson was listening to every word being said.

Lucas came back then, two beers in hand and smirked– smirked!– at Derek.

“Here you go,” he offered Stiles the bottle and positively leered at him when he took a sip. Stiles, who wasn’t used to so much attention promptly choked on the beer. Two hands hit his back almost simultaneously and that was precisely the moment Stiles shot up from his seat and fled to the kitchen.

He needed fucking space.

Just when he got his breath back a soft voice behind him asked: “Are you alright?”

Derek. Of course, it was Derek.

And, to his own anger, Stiles realised that not for one moment would he have thought Lucas to be the one to come after him. It had always been clear, even unconsciously, that it would be Derek. He felt a blush burn on his cheeks.

“Yeah, just was a little much.” Derek nodded, playing with a loose yarn on his shirt.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he muttered, eyes trained on the ground and feet shuffling nervously.

“It’s-“

“No, it’s not okay.” Derek interrupted, “I just- he was being so…” the hand movement seemed a bit eccentric and not at all clear.

“I couldn’t…”

“It’s alright. I just needed some space.” Stiles said, mainly to get rid of the awkwardness still hovering around them. He suddenly was overwhelmed with longing for the days when there hadn’t been this weird tension, where both were afraid to shatter the carefully built up wall between them by making one wrong move.

He just wanted– he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. To talk to Derek, like they used to, to hear him laugh at his silly jokes, to get dinner once a week.

“Stiles, I-“ Derek tried and failed to express what was on his mind.

“I miss you.” Stiles blurted out. “I know we’ve seen each other, but it’s not the same. It’s like we’re just– just moving in circles. And I don’t know what to do anymore!”

The temperature in the kitchen felt hotter than it had a minute before. Derek glanced up at him from under his lashes, light glistening in his eyes and reflecting the green in a way that made it look emerald.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to behave like this.” Stiles crossed the room, half afraid half hoping.

“I don’t want us to just make small-talk here and there. I don’t want to overthink everything I say.”

“I don’t like the distance. I want to see you, I want to take you out to dinner and hear about your week.” Derek slowly reached out, fingers barely grazing Stiles’ arms.

“I miss you too and I’m so sorry, Stiles.” he pulled him into a tight embrace, breath tickling Stiles’ ear.

“I’ll try to get along with him, okay? If he’s what you want, I’ll try.” Stiles felt a sudden cold settle in his stomach at those words.

What was he even doing here?

God, this was so wrong. He hadn’t meant to cling to Derek like this, to hug him like this. The conversation, the touching, it made it feel too close to something he desperately repressed. But he still didn’t let go, too absorbed in the way Derek held him, just right, and the strong beat of his heart against Stiles’ ribs.

Right.

Why did it feel so right?

A loud cough from the doorway made Stiles jump back as if electrocuted. He was relieved beyond measure when Erica grinned at them.

“Sorry to interrupt that intimate moment,” he really hated her smirk sometimes.

“Scott’s back with the pizza and if you don’t want to settle for Hawaiian, you need to get a move on.” She sauntered back out of the kitchen and threw over her shoulder: “I’m not saving you a piece, Stilinski, just ‘cause you’re otherwise occupied.”

Stiles turned to Derek to see if everything was alright. For a second, he swore there was a flush on Derek’s face but once he looked closer, it was gone. They walked back into the living room and saw that chaos had erupted.

Scott and Isaac were wrestling it out over pizza bread, Jackson was hogging his slice of Pepperoni and Lydia was looking at everyone with disgust and fond amusement. Stiles prepared to launch into a fight with Boyd over the last slice of Margherita but Derek’s hand on his arm held him back.

“Let me handle it.”

It lasted approximately 2.5 seconds before Stiles’ plate not only held the Margherita he had been eyeing but also some salad and, on the side, a bit of pizza bread with additional garlic. Stiles stared at it, unable to produce words to express how impressive that move had been.

Meanwhile, Erica jumped into Boyd’s lap with such enthusiasm that the wolf fell back with his chair– and Erica with him– and they ended up on the floor. Isaac got into a laughing fit over it and even Derek smiled fondly. He sat down, suddenly aware that Lucas was leaning back rather absently and nibbling at his Hawaii. The smart remark about the pizza choice– Hawaii of all things– died on his tongue at the distant look in his eyes.

“Lucas? Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” he startled “Oh, sorry. Tuned out there a bit.” If Stiles wasn’t mistaken then the smile was forced.

“You seem…” he didn’t know how to say it “off. Are you sure everything’s okay? Do you want to go home?” Lucas shook his head and pulled Stiles into an embrace that didn’t feel right. A plate shattered somewhere to their left and when Stiles turned to see what happened, Derek was already getting a broom.

“Derek?” Since when was Derek this clumsy? Fair enough, he was in the morning but usually only then.

“Slipped out of my hand, you know all the oil on the crust.” And Stiles would have believed it if not for every wolf in the room staring at Derek with raised brows.

As if he needed further confirmation, Erica snorted and accused: “Liar.”

Lydia elbowed her and discreetly pointed at Lucas who had confusion written all over his face. Not that Stiles noticed. He was too occupied trying to figure out what was going on with the Alpha.

Derek, meanwhile, blushed up to his hair and shuffled into the kitchen.

“Stiles? Stiles!” He whipped around to find Lucas pulling at his shirt. “I’ve been asking you if you want another drink for the last minute.” There was a slight accusation in his voice that Stiles felt bad about.

“No, thanks. Do you want anything else?” Lucas declined, pointedly looking at his watch.

“Do you mind if I leave early?”

“Uh. No, we can go– I just need to say goodbye…” he was already standing up when Lucas pulled him back down.

“No, no. It’s alright. You don’t need to leave. It’s just– I forgot I had an assignment and the deadline ends tomorrow, so I really gotta go.” He turned to the pack.

“It was nice meeting all of you. Enjoy the pizza.” With that, and before anyone could really react, he was out of the door. Stiles was left sitting in his seat while having absolutely no idea what was going on.

“Stiles?” Allison asked softly. He didn’t know what to do. Something was wrong. Lucas had looked spooked, sad even.

“He doesn’t have an assignment, does he?” The confirming nods all around just cemented it.

“Great.” Fucking great. Now he was being lied to. By his boyfriend. To get out of a meeting he had wanted to participate in.

“Maybe he just didn’t know how to tell you that he was overwhelmed?” Lydia suggested. Stiles highly doubted it.

“Can we just eat dinner?” He said, voice a bit more desperate than he wanted it to sound like. Derek came to his rescue, putting on another movie and ordering silence over the rest of them.

Scott threw him worried glances all throughout the next hour and Jackson looked ready to kill.

* * *

Twice this evening and five times in the morning had Stiles tried to contact Lucas but the guy was MIA. Not that he hadn’t read the countless messages Stiles had sent, no, he simply chose to ignore them. Stiles felt like being stabbed in the stomach by the sudden silence. He had no idea what he had done or how to fix it. By noon he was pacing in his room, staring at his phone and throwing it down on his bed just to pick it up again.

Two hours later, with still no call, Stiles drove into town just to have something to do. He had finished all of his assignments already, there was nothing on TV that even remotely interested him and his nerves were getting to him. A stroll through the park turned out to be anything but calming since he stumbled over five couples getting it on in the field, on benches and in the ice cream parlour for some reason.

He felt like the universe was rubbing it in rather viciously.

Deciding to get some tea to soothe his frantically beating heart, he entered a café and promptly stopped in the doorway. There was Erica, leaning seductively over the counter, her top so low cut that he could see her bra and her skirt short enough to cover half her butt.

He had the strong urge to throw his jacket over her and usher her out. But he refrained. If that was what she chose to dress like, far be it from him to interfere. She was the one who needed to feel beautiful. If that was what it took, then so be it.

Still, he kept a close eye on the barista she was seducing. While he was well aware that she could likely rip out his throat with one of her manicured nails, he still didn’t want her to have to. The guy scribbled his number down on her coffee cup with a smile.

She seemed satisfied and sat down in a booth. Not a minute later, another guy came up to her and started chatting her up. The grin on her face spoke volumes. Stiles watched in horrid fascination as she slipped him her number, pressing a kiss on his cheek and waving him off. The guy almost fell over himself, knees apparently wobbly.

Stiles couldn’t fault him. If such a beautiful girl had done this to him, he would have reacted similarly.

“Stiles?” Her voice trailed through the whole of the café, sounding bright and happy if still a bit husky. He joined her in the booth and was promptly sucked into a detailed recapitulation of all the attention Erica had gotten the last few days. She even told him that she didn’t know which of the boys to call first and that she was glad for all their sweet messages, which she showed him on her phone.

Stiles blushed up to his hairline after reading through what was in no way, shape or form considered sweet texting but rather barely a step above dick pics.

“You don’t have a problem with that?” he asked carefully, not wanting to upset her good mood.

“No, no, you see, it’s great. I like the way they all want me.” Yeah, that much was obvious. And there was nothing wrong with wanting to feel attractive and desirable. Just, this was a little much.

“And what about Boyd?” He needed to ask. While he did understand that sometimes interests didn’t align– just look at him and Derek– he had been fairly sure that Erica was as much head over heels for Boyd as he was for her.

He really hoped he wasn’t wrong.

“What about him?”

“Don’t you– I mean, I always thought, you liked him…” She wrinkled her nose, a sudden pensive look overcrowding her features.

“I– I do like him. He’s very sweet…” That- that made literally no sense and Stiles was ready to tell her so.

“I just don’t think he wants me that way, you know? The other guys, they show me how much they want me. It’s like they can’t even stop checking me out.”

Yes, that much had been clear.

“But that’s– Erica, that’s not the same…”

“But I want that. I want to feel wanted. I want them to want me.” She insisted with something in her eyes that set alarm bells of in Stiles’ brain.

He excused himself for a minute and went to the bathroom. After checking that the stalls were empty, he whipped out his phone and immediately called Derek.

“I mailed you the pages of the book. Can you look something up for me?” Derek sounded confused but Stiles heard him open his laptop.

“What do you need?”

“Page 450, I marked a paragraph. Can you read it to me?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute to scroll down.” Stiles waited, hyper aware that Erica could be gone with some stranger any minute now, if he was correct.

“Stiles? Are you sure?” Derek had obviously caught on.

“That’s what I need to find out.”

“Who?”

“Erica.”

“Okay. I’ve got it.” And what followed was exactly what Stiles had feared. He hung up, ran out of the bathroom. The booth was empty. Just like he had feared it to be. That either meant that Erica had gone home with someone or that she had left because Stiles had taken too long.

Once again, he called Derek.

“She’s gone. I need your nose.”

“You really think she left with one of them?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t like Erica to leave without saying goodbye or at least texting. He hoped it was a coincidence, that nothing bad was happening but he knew the chances were slim.

“You should have seen her. She was talking to two guys just when I came in. And the messages on her phone…”

It’s what had set him off in the first place. Because as much as Erica wanted to pretend she was into flaunting sexual comments anywhere she went, in private, she had always been rather shy about it. Apart from that, she had told Stiles that she was had only had sex once and that hadn’t been pleasurable at all.

“Boyd’s been calling her but she’s not picking up. We’re on the way.” Meanwhile Stiles inquired from the barista where she had gone to. Thankfully, the man had been so smitten by her décolleté that he remembered her and a blonde guy walking to– what he overheard was– the guy’s car.

“She’s in his car,” Stiles barked into his phone and heard Derek curse on the other end.

“I’m almost there, don’t move!” Not a minute later, Derek’s Camaro screeched around the corner. Stiles jumped in while Boyd hung his head out of the back window to smell the air.

“It’s a black Toyota.” Stiles said, looking around on the street. His blood rushed in his ears. If something happened to her, this was his fault. He had left her alone even though he had known something was wrong.

“Left. Derek, turn left!” Boyd snapped suddenly. Derek took a sharp left turn and hit the gas even harder. Stiles was pressed back against the seat.

“If something happens to her…” Stiles realised he sounded hysterical but he didn’t care. They needed to find her.

“Stop!” The car came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road before Derek made a u-turn and parked it on the side. Boyd was already out of the car and on the way to the Toyota barely hidden by some bushes in a niche.

Derek and Stiles fell into a sprint behind him. He ripped the backdoor of the car open so hard it completely flew off. The sight in front of their eyes made Stiles’ heart almost stop. A growl emitted from Boyd’s chest, loud enough to shake the treetops around.

Erica was on the backseat, shirt ripped, crying silently, her mascara running down her face.

The guy lay beside her, knocked out if the wound on his head was anything to go by. His belt was undone but her skirt wasn’t. Derek breathed out heavily beside him. Boyd’s eyes were still glowing yellow when he knelt down on the grass.

“Erica?” His voice sounded pained, his claws were out. He was barely holing on. Stiles put a hand on Derek’s arm to calm him down. The Alpha kept his eyes trained on the unconscious guy on the backseat, eyes blazing red. Stiles didn’t dare speak, scared to startle Erica even more.

“I don’t-“ she hiccoughed, “I don’t know why I did that… I didn’t– didn’t even want to…” Stiles noted the confused tone in her voice.

“Erica, do you think you can come out?” Boyd held up his palm for her to grab and pushed the other guy out of the way so she didn’t need to touch him while climbing out of the car.

“Derek, can we take the Camaro?” Derek simply nodded and handed over the key. Stiles watched as they Boyd helped Erica into the car and drove off.

He realised he was stranded here with Derek and no means for transportation a moment later.

“What was that?” Derek suddenly asked.

“Lust.” Stiles said as if that was explanation enough.

“I don’t know when she got infected but…” A chandelier suddenly burst into flames inside his head.

“Derek-“ he grabbed his arm almost painfully “Derek– I know how she looks like! I met her!”

“You met her? Fuck, Stiles! We need to get back–“ But he hadn’t understood correctly.

“No! Not like that! I saw her! In the store! She came up to Erica and put a hand on her shoulder to ask about her lipstick! We didn’t think any of it but it must have been her! I thought it was strange but then I forgot…”

“Can you describe her? Do you remember what she looks like?” Stiles nodded and told him about her dark hair, the blue eyes, her dainty figure and blinding smile, her charming voice and crimson lips.

“That was the first time she accepted a number from a stranger. We were getting coffee and she just said yes when he asked her. I should have realised…” he pulled at his hair, overwhelmed with guilt and helplessness.

“Hey now…” Derek took his hands into his own, “this wasn’t anyone’s fault.” His voice had a calming effect.

“Let’s call someone to pick us up,” he suggested and pulled out his phone. Allison was already in the car and on the way to the library when Derek called, so she agreed to pick them up.

“I still don’t really understand why that escalated so much…” Derek admitted while they were waiting. The guy in the Toyota was still unconscious and Stiles didn’t pity him.

“Lust doesn’t mean you’re ready to actually have sex.” was his way of explanation.

“Erica has that need to feel wanted, to feel desirable. I don’t think she really wanted to have sex, so Lust made her go with that guy but when he tried to go further than kissing, she suddenly realised that was not what she wanted.”

Derek’s knuckles cracked.

“You think he was about to…?”

“God, I hope not.” And he really did. Because Erica– and nobody else for that matter– deserved this.

A noise behind them stopped the conversation.

“Wh-“ Derek whipped around, eyes once again red.

“Derek, no!” Stiles stepped between Derek, who had his fist raised, and the guy, who was slowly coming back to himself.

“You can’t do that!” he hissed.

“Why not? He deserves it!”

“What if he’s infected too?”

“He still touched her!” Stiles’ jaw ticked. Derek was right. While he could excuse many things, assault was not one of them. And consent could be revoked at any time and everyone who didn’t think so could go to hell for all he cared.

“One. Only one, you hear me?” he stepped aside, but added: "So, make it count."

Derek grinned, fangs elongating. And then he punched the guy right in the face. Blood splattered everywhere, the guy flew backwards against the seat.

“Better?”

“No.” Derek huffed, shook out his hand.

“Let’s walk for a bit. Allison should be here in a few minutes anyway.” he was very much aware that the police – and therefore his Dad– could get involved in this. But the guy would be really stupid to make a move since one word from Erica could dispute his whole story. Stiles itched for the chance to see the guy prosecuted but wasn’t all too sure it would happen without any proof. Erica’s skin likely didn’t show any trace of violence – if there had been any– but his did.

So better safe than sorry and he just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Just then, Allison’s car stopped beside him.

“She’s okay?” The worry was evident on her face. Derek nodded then shook his head, obviously undecided.

“Do you want to go home or do you want me to drive to her house?” That was indeed the question, wasn’t it?

“Let me call Boyd for a second.” Derek rehashed the story while Stiles checked in with Boyd.

“She’s sleeping right now. Maybe tomorrow?” The wolf sounded broken, exhausted and so, so very hurt. Stiles wanted to right the world for him.

“Tomorrow, then. Tell her we love her if she wakes up.”

“Will do,” he paused “And Stiles?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For looking out for her.” Stiles’ eyes welled up. He ended the call, his throat tight.

* * *

Someone rang the bell on his door, something the wolves never did. Still, Stiles didn’t suspect Lucas to be the one he opened the door to. An air of resignation seemed to waver around him when Stiles stepped aside to let him in.

“I wanna talk to you,” he said it without any anger but it still didn’t come close to the personality Lucas had displayed the weeks before.

“I– see, I really like you but, when I saw you two yesterday, I realised that this just doesn’t work.” For the second time today, the ground was pulled out from under Stiles’ feet.

“What?”

“You and Derek. I saw you in the kitchen and–“ he drew a shaky breath “I just don’t think we can work.” This couldn’t be happening. Stiles refused to believe this was happening.

“There is nothing going on between me and Derek.”

“I never said it was. I’m not accusing you of something here.” He took Stiles’ hand. Stiles realised he was trembling.

“Then what are you saying? Because that’s just some bullshit.”

“It’s not. Listen,” he waited until Stiles met his eyes “I know you probably didn’t do it on purpose but can we just not act as if you’re not in love with him?” The words hit harder than a bullet. Stiles felt his stomach drop to his feet.

“That’s not– you’re wrong.” Lucas’ smile was full of pity. He sighed.

“I’m not, though. I saw the way you look at him, how you move around him, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You are completely yourself when he’s there. And before you say something, I know you’ve been holding back with me. I don’t know why and it doesn’t matter now, but you have. And I thought you were just not used to being in a relationship but then I saw how you act around him. There is so much trust. It’s like you don’t even have to look to know he’s there. And you count on it. You depend on him. And you trust him. I think, out of all of your friends, it’s him you trust most. Because you love him.”

Stiles was borderline silent, too shocked, too afraid to answer.

“I don’t…” he bit his lip, wrung his hands “I didn’t mean– I’m so sorry.” He looked up at Lucas and saw the hurt there, clear as day. He felt so guilty. He shouldn’t have done this.

“It’s okay. Just… look, I get that maybe it’s complicated between you two but you have to promise me…” His eyes were moist, his voice barely a breath “Promise me, you’ll do something about it.”

“I can’t– he doesn’t…”

“Stiles!” Lucas interrupted him “Don’t do that. Please. Don’t act like you don’t know how he feels about you. It’s so obvious. I saw it the first time we met on the street. Even then. Even in those five minutes, I talked to him, he didn’t look at me once. All his focus was on you. He moves around you, like you’re his centre, like he needs you close to be alright. If you aren’t there, he doesn’t know what to do, as if something’s missing, like when you went into the kitchen. He looks to you, automatically, whenever something happens, like when they started fighting instead of breaking it up, he looks to you. Hell, he even shattered a plate because I hugged you.”

“It was just the oil…”

“No! Fuck no, it wasn’t and you know it. I don’t understand why you refuse to believe he likes you when even your friends said he was lying about the plate!” Stiles was confused. It sounded almost as if Lucas wanted him to get with Derek.

“Why do you want me with him so bad?” He didn’t know why that hurt him so badly. But it did. And he wanted an answer.

“Because you used me to get over him and I don’t get why!” It was the first time he lost his calm. Stiles shrunk away from him.

“He likes you, you like him. And if you’d just accept that, this– all of this– wouldn’t have needed to happen. I wouldn’t have-“ He breathed in through the nose and continued more calmly “I wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

Stiles’ heart clenched. He had longed for someone to say that to him, but hearing it now just wasn’t right.

“You belong with him. I understand that now.” Lucas stood up, reached out just to let his hand fall to his side again.

“Tell him.” With that, he left. And Stiles sat on his couch and started crying.

* * *

The next day, after checking his reflection in the mirror and picking a shirt he felt comfortable in, he drove over to the loft, made a beeline for the couch, flopped down on it and exclaimed:

“Boys are stupid!”

Derek nearly let the glass he was holding fall down to the ground in his haste to pull Stiles into a hug.

“What happened?”

“Lucas broke up with me.” Derek stiffened against him.

“Why?” He asked, sounding tentative.

“Some bullshit about being unavailable.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really anyway. And Derek didn’t pick up on it. His embrace tightened.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled into Stiles’ shoulder “Do you want to do something? We can watch a movie or go to the cinema?” He said it as if it wasn’t a big deal, as if Stiles’ answer wasn’t important but this time, Stiles was paying attention. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it sure seemed as if Derek wasn’t all too sorry about it.

“Sure, let’s watch a movie.” He didn’t miss the way Derek stayed close to him even though the whole couch was free to spread out on.

“Erica is coming by after. Do you want to stay for that?” Stiles appreciated the option to bow out. This could, after all, get rather personal.

But she was like a sister to him and he wanted to be there for her.

Unless she didn’t want him to.

* * *

“I’ll kill her! I know what she looks like! I don’t give a fuck who sees! I will rip her head off!” Erica snarled, eyes glowing and teeth sharp. She was obviously doing better but Stiles wasn’t sure if anger was the right route. Then again, it seemed as if anger was every wolf’s default setting, so he couldn’t really fault her for it.

She had learned from Derek after all.

“We don’t know where she is. You need to calm down,” Stiles cringed inwardly. That was hardly the right thing to say.

As expected, Erica’s eyes went wide: “Calm down? Calm down! I am fucking calm!”

Derek flinched at the volume.

“I want her dead! I want her fucking dead and I don’t care how you do it but I need you to track her!”

“Erica,” Boyd’s voice was soft when he reached out to put a hand over hers.

“They’re doing what they can, alright? You know how hard it is to track them…” Ever the reasonable one and Stiles was silently thankful. Erica deflated noticeably.

“Sorry- I just-“

“I know, it’s okay.” Derek said earnestly.

“Do you have any leads on her?” Stiles shook his head, angry with himself because he still hadn’t found anything.

“You remember what she looks like?”

“Yeah.” he typed in another web-address “Are you sure it’s her?”

Erica nodded: “Who else could it be? I don’t usually go around touching strangers. And that’s when it started,” she paused, face flush “When I started feeling like this.”

Stiles left that uncommented and resumed his search.

“He didn’t go to the police,” Boyd told them to their great relief.

“Good. I don’t want you to have to go up there and testify against him.” Derek said. Erica seemed to curl in on herself at that.

“I hate feeling like this…” she whispered and Stiles didn’t need to look to know her eyes were glassy.

Suddenly, he saw a motion on the screen, then a figure entered the frame that he recognised immediately.

“I’ve got it!” The camera showed a gas n’ sip not far from them where a dainty girl just leaned over an elder trucker, touching his shoulder in the process. Erica fumed beside him.

“Let’s go!” Boyd looked at Erica through narrowed eyes.

“I’m not staying behind! It’s my demon! I get to kill her!” Boyd held his hand up in a sign of surrender.

* * *

They reached the gas n’ sip just when the demon walked out of the shop. She waved when she saw Erica, without a doubt recognising her. Erica jumped out of the car before the motor was cold and crossed the lot quickly.

Lust was fast to dodge the first attack. Erica hit the ground hard but was back up in a second.

Her claws hit the girl on the arm. The demon hisses, like a snake, and twisted Erica’s arm. Derek jumped into motion, Boyd beside him. Stiles was the last to arrive but managed to make Lust stumble over his foot. The girl looked dishevelled with a glint in her eyes that Stiles didn’t like.

“Didn’t you enjoy it? Being wanted for once? Being touched?” Erica snarled and threw herself onto the demon. But she was faster.

“I’m not like the others before me! I can fight!” She pulled a knife out of her handbag.

“You are just a bitch!” Erica growled, locks a mess but still utterly terrifying.

“And it’ll be a pleasure to kill you!” The demon laughed and attacked Erica with the knife. She managed to scratch her shoulder, watched in delight as the blood poured out and Erica hissed in pain.

Boyd tried to step in but Erica refused to let him.

“She’s mine!” She snarled, sounding more animal than Stiles had ever heard her.

“You’re dead, she-wolf!” The demon hissed around ugly teeth. The more she fought, the more her beautiful form wavered. Bits and pieces disappeared until Stiles saw the demon’s real face underneath.

“Not so pretty anymore, are you?” He sneered. The demon turned to him.

“Shut up, human! This has got nothing to do with you!”

“Step away from him!” Derek was suddenly by his side, blocking him effectively.

“Oh, the Big Alpha! I’ve heard about you, from my Brothers and Sister. You’re such a treat for us, you know! As if you were–“ Lust made a gurgling sound.

Stiles watched with fascination as a claw retracted from her throat. She let loose a scream that threatened to burst his ear drums, inhuman and full of rage.

Lust whipped around where Erica grinned at her. The wolf launched into attack, grabbed her hand and pulled the ring of, throwing it at Stiles who caught it easily. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Erica slashed Lust’s throat with her claws.

Her head fell off her shoulders and rolled to Derek’s feet.

Erica looked at the head that remained solid for a minute before dissolving into dust just like Pride had. She pushed the hair out of her face and walked to the car, not looking back.

The other three remained standing, unable to move and shocked by the outcome.

“That was…” Stiles started but didn’t finish.

“Let’s go, before anyone comes out.” Derek ushered them to the car, even though it was unlikely anyone had seen. The ring, Stiles held tightly in his hand.

“Erica? Are you okay?” Derek asked her where she was re-applying her lipstick as if nothing had happened.

The ride back was awkward, to say the least. Derek and Stiles in the front exchanged glances now and then, proud and shocked simultaneously. Stiles remembered vividly how Derek had trained Erica for two months before she had finally mastered the control needed for the partial shift. To see her become such a badass, fully capable of taking care of herself without any help, was incredible, even if Stiles wished for it not to be necessary.

“You look pretty without it too, you know?” Boyd’s voice travelled to the front, soft but firm.

“I like the way it looks.” Erica said, sounding nonchalant even if Stiles could tell, she was nervous.

“You were brilliant out there.” She blushed. Stiles saw it in the mirror.

“You think?”

“Yes. But I think you’re brilliant every day,” Derek’s smile was wide enough to reach his ears.

“Do you… does that mean…?”

“I like you, Erica. I’ve always liked you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t show you how much I wanted you enough for you to feel comfortable about it.”

“It’s not-“

“Just know that if you want-“ the usually so silent wolf took a deep breath, then continued: “If you want, I would like to take you out on a date.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Then, with a gleeful squeak Erica threw herself into Boyd’s lap– how she managed that with her seatbelt on, Stiles had no idea– and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

* * *

After driving the couple to Boyd’s house, Derek brought Stiles home.

Just before Stiles could climb out of the car, a hand on his arm stopped him.

Derek turned to him, eyes open and vulnerable and said:

_“Stiles?”_


	6. Greed (Avaritia) I want it all! And I want it now!

_“Greed, in the end, is a lonely road to travel…”_

__

_“Stiles?”_

The air in the car suddenly threatened to suffocate him. He pulled at the collar of his shirt to breathe a little more easily.

“Would you-“ Derek scraped the back of his neck “And I- I’d understand if you didn’t want to, I just-“

“You just…?”

“I thought we could do dinner?” Stiles refused once again to get his hopes up. They had barely been friends for the last weeks, so, they needed to rekindle that before he would even think about what Lucas had told him.

“Sure, if you want to?” he paused, a bit embarrassed “I mean, I totally get it if _you_ don’t want to after last time…”

“No-“ Derek hurried to say “I- I do want to. I just thought, maybe, so soon after Lucas…”

“Oh,” yeah, okay, he could see that “No, I- I want to too…” he cringed at his own words.

“Great.”

“Yup.”

Silence filled the car to a level where it became almost unbearable. After another painful second Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

He blurted out a quick: “Okay bye,” nearly jumped out of the car and raced to his front door, face burning and ears bright red.

* * *

Back in his room he paced all the way from the bed to the window to throw out worried glances– he fully expected Derek to lurk somewhere in the shadows– and back to the bed. That he stumbled and hit his toe so badly the nail split at the top was his business and if he nearly cracked his head open while trying to stop the bleeding didn’t need to be discussed. Period.

Only when he was leaning over the bathtub did Derek’s words truly register. He had said “so soon after Lucas”, didn’t that imply this wasn’t just dinner between friends? Stiles was so confused. He could absolutely see Derek just saying this because he thought Stiles was sad enough not to want to do dinner with anyone. Maybe the Alpha was just really oblivious of Stiles’ feelings for him.

Two hours later, he conceded that he was being paranoid– no sight of Derek whatsoever– and finally relaxed enough to eat a bit of leftover stir fry. It tasted mediocre, but after the day he had had, he didn’t really have high expectations. The meal turned to ash in his mouth once he revisited the idea of a re-do dinner with Derek.

Oh God, why had he said yes again?

Apart from being hopelessly in love with Derek, of course.

If this ended as horribly as the last one, Stiles would officially move to the other side of the country, or better yet, to Australia. At least between kangaroos and koalas there were no dinner maybe dates to botch.

Lucas’ words came back to haunt him, echoing in his mind on a goddamn loop. Tentative hope blossomed in Stiles’ chest that he tried to squash down as best as he could, but a small beam of light still managed to resist, shining through the cracks that was the bandage around his heart.

He curled up in a ball on his bed, head buried in a pillow and just breathed for a while. Time and time again his thoughts came back to the way Derek had touched him that evening, to Lucas’ accusations. He wanted so badly for them to be true. So badly.

So, when sleep finally found him, late in the night when not even the crickets to chirp, his dreams were filled with Derek’s green eyes and his burning touches and the prickle he had felt when Derek’s breath had tickled his neck. Even while asleep, he shivered at the memory, pushing the blanket off because his body temperature shot up.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up to three missed calls from Lydia, which immediately made his stomach plummet.

“Lydia?” She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, Stiles heard her shout at someone: “I need those damned books. I need them now and I don’t care who you have to pay off to get them or if you have to print them yourself. So, get to it, before I lose my calm and kindly shove a complaint so far up your rectum that you won’t even have the teeth to apologise for this idiocy. Are we clear?”

On the other end, Stiles felt relief wash through him like a cold wave because she obviously wasn’t talking to him. He pitied the employee though, who had to deal with her. From experiences, he never wanted to re-live, thank you very much, he knew how frightening Lydia could be, when she was angry. And to think that she didn’t even need claws or teeth to pull it off.

Well, he smiled fondly to himself, there had been a reason he had been so smitten with her for all these years after all.

“Thank you very much for your effort,” never had he heard a thank you sound this icy.

“Stiles? Sorry, I had to sort out a minor inconvenience,” if this was a minor inconvenience, he didn’t know what a major one would be like.

“I take it that everything is sorted, then?”

“Of course. I just had to reinforce an employee to reconsider my reasonable request of rethinking his answer with regard to my polite inquiry.”

“That was a lot of re-‘s.”

“Well, if one is met with such incompetence as displayed here,” Stiles realised then that she was likely still in the library and talking loud enough for the poor lad to hear. She ended the sentence with: “one is forced to reimburse their methods.” when a door closed in the background.

“Was that all you needed? Or is there a _reason_ for the three calls on my mailbox?” Maybe stressing the re- was a bit too far but he couldn’t help himself. Lydia huffed– and thankfully spared him from another tirade.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, there is.” Stiles waited patiently, while flipping the pancakes he had spent the last minutes making.

“I need your help,” he promptly let go of the pan, that proceeded to clatter to the floor and cursed when he burned himself trying to pick it up from the wrong end.

Once he got himself upright again, he asked: “Come again?”

“Don’t make me say it again. I came across a dead end in my thesis and, since folklore is your field of expertise, I am enlisting your help.” She was still using all the big words, a sure sign for Stiles not to mess with her.

“Sure, when do you have time?”

“Around seven?”

“I’ll bring some snacks.” When he got pack to his pancakes, he realised at least a third of them were burned beyond means of salvation. If every day started like this one, he seriously considered just staying in bed.

* * *

Around 6.30 Stiles felt a slight unease settle in his stomach. He couldn’t find its cause until his phone alerted him of an incoming text message that read: 

_Are you free this Saturday at 7? There is a restaurant, not far from the highway, that has the best steak._

After that, he realised that Derek’s radio silence had maybe been partially responsible for unsettling him so much, afraid that the wolf had changed his mind and was now avoiding Stiles.

Another message came in just before Stiles finished typing his reply: _If you still want to._

And a third one: _Or, if you’re not in the mood for steak, we can go somewhere else._

A smile tugged at the corners of Stiles’ mouth. Always so considerate.

_Saturday 7 is fine. I like steak, don’t worry._

Derek’s next text came in almost immediately after:

_Good. Should I pick you up or do you want to drive there?_

For a brief moment, Stiles contemplated driving there himself. Flashbacks from their last dinner haunted him. The prospect of having to share a car after– what could very well be another disaster– was not necessarily something he wished to indulge in.

Then he figured a second chance is a second chance– clear plate and all that– and that they had had many great dinners without any problems.

_Picking me up is fine._

_If it doesn’t bother you?_

He didn’t want to see that specific expression– eyeroll, raised brows, that tick in his jaw– on Derek’s face ever again.

_It doesn’t bother me, Stiles._

_I’ll pick you up at 6.40 if that’s okay?_

Well, okay then.

_Sure._

He put his phone away and gathered is books, when it dinged again.

_Have a good thesis session with Lydia._

How he knew that was beyond Stiles but then again, they were closer than most groups of friends, so perhaps Lydia had told him. 

_Text me when you’re home?_

It wasn’t the first time for Derek to request a confirmation of arrival, but this felt a little different. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t misinterpreted again, though, so he answered as vaguely as he could.

_Will do. Have a nice evening, Derek._

Derek’s text came quickly after that:

_Thank you._

_You too._

* * *

Lydia opened her door with an air of impatience around her that didn’t bode too well.

“You’re late.” He bit his tongue and knew better than to say “by a minute”. They set up camp in the living room where a pyramid of books was balanced in the corner that look rather fragile to Stiles.

“You’ve got your own research?” He nodded and handed her the pages, watching in silence as she skipped through them.

“There is a symbolism that doesn’t make sense when I translate it from Gaelic. I need the interpretation for my thesis.” She shoved a file into his hand and made him sit down on the floor.

While he was trying to make sense of her minimalistic handwriting, she went through his bag and seemingly ate all his snacks.

“Hey! I said, I’m helping you, not that you can rob me of my sweets!”

“Then get to it, I haven’t got all day.”

“Now you sound like old-Jackson.” The pillow on his head was something he should have seen coming in hindsight.

Fifteen minutes after that little dispute, Stiles was trying to pry at least one of the books out of Lydia’s hands. He got scratched rather viciously by a perfectly manicured nail for his efforts.

“You’re hogging all the books, you know? I can’t help you if you don’t let go!”

“Well, get yourself another one because I need this one right now,” She sounded more stressed than usual, so Stiles sat back down and asked if she was alright.

“I really need this to be perfect. And then that incompetent cretin almost didn’t give me the books and the deadline is in two weeks. What if I don’t get it done in time? What if it’s not perfect? I refuse to lose my internship and then my dream-job. If that happens, I have to study at the community college and that is a horrible prospect of my future.”

She rambled on.

Stiles even thought, he heard her mutter: “I am meant to be a Doctor, I know I am. One title at least. Maybe two. And MIT isn’t too far away.”

“MIT? You want to go to MIT?” His jaw hit the floor with how much shock it had to swallow.

“Yes. Of course. I want to go to the best college. Maybe Oxford too for a second decree.”

“What do you need a second decree for?” Not that he didn’t know she was academically ambitious. Still, this was the first time he heard about a second decree.

“I don’t need it.” she said as if he was being ridiculous “I _want_ it.” If the glint in her eyes was anything to go by, that word made all the difference. Even if he didn’t understand it.

“Okay… then let’s see about this chapter again. Maybe if you don’t use Latin but Italian? It’s a Celtic symbol, so if you tried Gaelic and it doesn’t cut it, maybe you have to go back further? Find the root?”

She contemplated, pulled her hair in a way that surely didn’t look as pretty as she wanted it to, and dove back into research. Stiles tried to feed her something– apart from the sweets he had bought and which she had been inhaling for the last hour– but was met with a growl. He briefly wondered since when Lydia didn’t consider her sugar intake with caution.

Not, as someone had once accused her of– because she was watching her weight but because she wanted to eat healthy and spare her body the torture that was coming down from a sugar high. Apparently, that rule had been thrown out the window for today, since she was currently nibbling on her third Snickers bar.

Around midnight they finally had a break-through, deciphering the root of the key-word to be from a southern Gaelic variety. Stiles may have let out a “eureka” at that.

It didn’t take long after that to interpret the meaning of the symbol so, before he knew it, Stiles was on his way back home.

* * *

Stiles turned around on the bed, trying desperately to get comfortable with little to no success. When suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark figure leaning against his desk. He scrambled for his bat with one hand while hitting the light switch with the other.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed loudly, bat pointing at the figure, who had crouched down in a manner Stiles would recognise everywhere.

“Derek! What the fuck are you doing? Shit!” The bat clattered to the floor out of Stiles’ lax hands.

“I’ve told you to stop that! Damn it!” he tried to get a lungful of air that wouldn’t come easily.

“Fuck! How many times have I told you how fucking creepy this is!” he worried his hair with trembling fingers.

His heart was racing: “And get up from the floor!”

To Derek’s credit, he did look quite sheepish when he tried to lean against the desk but missed the edge and nearly fell out of the– still open– window.

“What are you doing here? It’s…” Stiles glanced at his watch “one in the morning!”

“You didn’t text me to say you made it home okay…” Derek sounded somewhere between apologetic and accusing, oddly enough.

“Oh.” Stiles scratched his head. That was, unfortunately, very much true. Still, it didn’t excuse the lurking.

“Then why didn’t you say something? Wake me up? Everything would have been better than scaring the crap out of me like that!” He couldn’t help it. After having nightmares for so long, sleep was kind of a tense topic.

“I just- after Erica and all of that, I was- I was worried.” You don’t say, Stiles thought to himself. The dude had obviously been in full-blown panic mode. And it wasn’t like Stiles didn’t understand that.

“I didn’t think until I was already in your room. And you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you…” Derek’s whole posture screamed one thing and one thing only: embarrassed. Stiles took pity on him.

“It’s okay Big Guy. I get it. Just-“ his heart was still attempting to trigger a coronary.

“Next time, please wake me up, alright?”

The Alpha nodded, shoulders still drawn up to his ears.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text. Lydia wanted me to translate something and after that I was so tired that I just forgot.” He reached out to Derek’s arm, squeezing it “I’m really sorry.”

Derek shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have panicked like that…”

“I get it, Derek. It’s not like I haven’t called you at three in the morning once or twice either.” Everyone in their pack had at one point rang another out of bed in a frantic need to know their whereabouts.

“Still. You didn’t come through my window and watch me sleep…”

“I wouldn’t have survived that for more than one reason.” Stiles smirked at the idea. He wouldn’t have made it to the first floor, let alone the loft, intact. And even if he had, Derek’s instinct would have kicked in the second he would have stepped foot inside it. Which would have ended with his throat being ripped out, a sensation he didn’t particularly feel like experiencing.

“Would have been fun to see you try, though. Maybe you’d even made it to my bed before I realised.” Derek said around a grin that was more teeth than anything. Stiles suppressed a shiver at the mention of Derek’s bed.

“Fun for you maybe,” he huffed “I would be stupid to even try.”

“Nah, you’re more agile than you’re giving yourself credit for,” Derek sounded quite nonchalant for his earlier angst-ridden, stalkerish behaviour.

“I would plant face first into the asphalt and you’d have to scrape me off the street with an ice scraper.” He protested.

“Somehow, I don’t think that would happen,” Derek mused as if this was a serious contemplation.

“We are never going to find out!” Stiles said with conviction. That was not something he needed to test.

“Too bad.” The lopsided smile on Derek’s face did something to Stiles’ heart that was too complicated to put into words.

“Yeah, too bad you don’t have to drive me to the ER again.”

“I quite liked our trips there. You’re always so clingy when you’re on pain meds.”

“Screw you!” Stiles threw his pillow. With the effect that he now had nothing to lay down on.

“Just because you can snap your fingers and _puff_ the injury is gone doesn’t mean we’re all that lucky,” he pointed an accusing finger at Derek, trying to muster up a scowl that somehow just wouldn’t stick “I’d like to see you drunk on wolfsbane Mr.-I’m-Invincible. Who’s gonna be clingy then?”

“Maybe I’m a happy drunk,” Derek smirked. And, oh God, he should _really_ stop that. Bastard.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Let’s try it out then,” Derek tempted– yes, tempted, there was no other word for it.

“I can ask Deaton to prepare me a bottle of wine if you want? For dinner?” The glint in Derek’s eyes screamed of danger.

Stiles, never one to back out of a challenge, agreed. He should have realised that Derek had looked far too pleased with himself when he left for it to be as casual as the offer had seemed.

In fact, Stiles didn’t find anything was amiss for a long time until that day Derek’s behaviour had him in serious trouble.

So much so that he would call Lydia from the bathroom, fully aware that Derek was likely able to hear the entire conversation.

* * *

But, first things first. Derek picked Stiles up at 6.40 sharp, not that Stiles had been counting minutes or something similarly pathetic. Once he caught sight of the Alpha in a deep black Henley with way more cleavage than probably decent– Stiles was oddly reminded of Peter, who was currently in South Africa on an extended vacation he immensely enjoyed, if the pictures he regularly sent the pack were anything to go by.

Still, Derek looked better than should be legal, but what could Stiles say?

He had been painfully aware of that for some time now.

Meanwhile Derek’s eyes were roaming up and down Stiles’ figure. Stiles wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable with that, knowing how he couldn’t compare to Derek’s physique– or to Derek’s everything really.

“You look-“ Stiles pulled his sleeves over his hands, feeling more self-conscious than he had for a while.

“I- I can change, just gimme a minute. I have-“ He was already turned towards the stairs, when Derek held him back.

“No! No, that’s not what- I- you look good. I like the shirt.”

“Oh.” A sudden rush of heat burned on his cheeks.

“Do you- don’t you need a jacket? It’s getting cold tonight,” Derek said while staring at the floor, a pink tinge on the tips of his ears. Stiles didn’t know what to do with this situation. Derek wasn’t wearing a jacket either, but then again, wolves didn’t really get cold, did they? Maybe-

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice sounded like he had said his name more than once already. “Where did you go to?” The question didn’t hold any malice, just curiosity.

“Sorry, just wondered whether you got cold too or if wolves have some installed heat-system.” Derek chuckled, then smoothed down the front of his Henley.

“We do run quite hot,” is what he chose to answer with, incidentally making Stiles blush all seven shades of red.

“Let me grab a jacket then.” Stiles reached around the door and grabbed the first item that his fingers touched. That it was his black trench coat that hugged his shoulders just right was by no means intentional.

Not at all.

* * *

This time, Derek led Stiles to their table with a hand on his smaller back that threatened to burn a hole right through Stiles’ shirt. As a result, he was a shivering mess once they finally sat down.

“I looked at the menu online already, to see if there is anything you would like because I didn’t want you not to find something and I read that they have curly fries, but with special seasoning, so, I thought, you might like them?” Stiles smiled to himself. It wasn’t like Derek to word vomit like this.

He did study the menu though, just to be sure the fries were what he wanted. The waiter came after a few minutes to write down their order.

“I’d like the steak medium rare please,” Derek said. Not that Stiles was surprised. He even smirked across the table. Derek blushed prettily but smiled back.

“Well done for me,” Stiles added. He wasn’t really that fond of raw meat, thank you very much. He would leave that to the wolves. Pun intended.

“Curly fries on the side for him and regulars for me,” Derek looked questioningly “Or do you want something else?” Stiles appreciated being asked. He hated when people decided for him.

“No, just the curly fries please and can I have a water, please?” The waiter discreetly disappeared, leaving the two of them alone with only each other.

“So, how was your translation session? Lydia sounded quite…” Derek trailed off, a hand gesture implying exactly what he wasn’t saying.

“Yeah, she was a bit stressed because her internship is on the line if the thesis isn’t perfect,” he rolled his eyes “as if anything Lydia hands in isn’t.”

“I think she’s a bit overwhelmed lately.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Because it was true. Lydia did have an exceptionally thin thread of patience at the moment. The fiasco with the books was only one example, a memorable one at that.

“What kind of an Alpha would I be if I didn’t.” Derek proudly stated. Stiles watched with a warm feeling, glad that Derek finally started to realise how good an Alpha he was.

“Is there a sin of being overworked and bitchy about it?” Stiles joked and earned a chuckle from Derek.

“On a serious note though, you don’t think there’s something going on right?” He really hoped Lydia was just stressed.

“What’s the next one that’s coming around?”

“Greed.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Derek said, taking a sip from his water.

“Not really…” Stiles mused. He found a bit of relief in the thought.

“I could talk to her?” Derek’s statement sounded more like a question, so Stiles took it upon himself to answer.

“I think that’s a great idea. Ever since she stumbled upon that Banshee thing, she’s been kinda lost and overwhelmed. I think, if you talked to her, she’d feel more included, not that much of an outsider because her powers are different from yours.” Stiles used the words “stumbled upon the Banshee thing” deliberately, Peter’s dark past still being a sore subject and all that.

“You don’t think she’ll rip my head off?”

“Ah no, that’s more our thing…” Derek grinned, obviously remembering how often he had thrown Stiles against a hard surface, pushed up in his space and used that particular threat.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Derek started, using an almost posh accent “It was ripping your _throat_ out,” he paused for dramatic effect and continued around fangs in his mouth “with my teeth.” They both dissolved in giggles, fondly thinking back to those times.

“I wouldn’t actually have done it, you know?” Derek said, suddenly being earnest.

Stiles waved it off: “Sure.”

“No, I mean it.” He leaned over the table, holding eye contact that felt a little too intense “I wouldn’t have gone through with it,” almost as if to save face, he added “Not even when you were being an annoying teenager.”

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” they had discussed it already, but Stiles felt it was important to emphasise.

“I wouldn’t have.”

“Why not?” The playful mood had gone but Stiles, oddly enough, didn’t miss it. While the fear of rejection still spiked his nerves, he needed this conversation to happen, had needed it to happen for quite some time actually.

“Because you were not the bad guy.” He contemplated how much he should reveal and decided to go all in. If Lucas was even remotely right, one of them had to be brave. And, by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be Derek.

“I always knew you were not the bad guy, Derek.”

“You hated me.”

“No. I never hated you,” his heart jackrabbited in his chest “I didn’t want my life to change. And I wanted to blame you for when it did. Because I couldn’t blame Scott, you know? I couldn’t do that. Because then I would have had to blame myself to and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“What changed?”

“You.” Stiles mumbled. “You continuously threw yourself into danger to protect us, bit Isaac and Erica and Boyd because you needed a pack but you didn’t want to force people to join you. You didn’t kill Jackson, even when you wanted to. And when the Nogitsune happened,” his throat was tight all of a sudden.

“When all of that shit went down, you still wouldn’t kill me. Even when I told you to.”

“Of course I didn’t- Stiles- I could never-“

“I know!” He continued a little bit more calmly “I know that. Just- you protected me, from myself and from everything else that came at us. And I started to see that you weren’t the asshole you always pretend to be. You’re just-“ he noticed Derek’s hands gripping the table, so hard the wood threatened to crack.

“You’re you. And I could never hate you for that.” The table creaked when Derek leaned in.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you in the beginning.” Derek said quickly “I wanted Scott to join me to go against Peter and thought you were in my way, that you’d hold him back.” Stiles was well aware of that.

“But I was wrong.” Derek sounded so earnest, Stiles really wanted to believe him. “I realised that you weren’t replaceable. The opposite really. I couldn’t have done all of that without you behind me. And when it came down to it,” he hesitated, glanced at Stiles from under his lashes as if to search for encouragement.

“I always trusted you. Even after I promised myself to never trust another human, when I came back, you were the first one I trusted. Not Scott, not even myself. But you-“ he paused, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You were different. Not because you held me up in that pool.” They both shared a smile full of emotion at the memory.

“Because you refused to let me die.” Stiles gulped around the burning in his throat. Of course, he had. There had been no other option. He couldn’t have-

“You just wouldn’t let me. Against Argent, the Darach, the Alpha Pack, the Nogitsune, Kate. You refused to let me die. And I realised that I had to protect you, because you’re special, Stiles.” He reached out to squeeze Stiles’ hand, the words igniting a spark inside of him that not even Derek’s touch could top.

“That shouldn’t make you trust me, you know? That’s not how it should work,” he felt a desperate need to get onto safe-territory, to lighten the mood.

“That’s the way it works for us, though.” Derek mumbled, sounding shy. And Stiles couldn’t help the grin spreading on his face.

“We’re so fucked up, aren’t we?”

“I like to think we just had some shitty luck, to be honest.” Thankfully, Derek took it lightly. 

“So, how about that spiked wine you talked about,” Stiles felt bold for asking but the alcohol in his system usually had that effect on him. Also, he wanted the topic to change back to something they wouldn’t break down crying over.

Derek’s grin turned from sweet and caring to wolfish in the span of a millisecond. It happened so fast, Stiles wondered about whiplash.

“Why, Stiles, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to get me drunk,” Derek’s eyes darkened and he leaned in closely, his voice dropping an octave. Stiles didn’t step into the trap though, recognising the it for what it was. Because whatever he was about to say, Derek would know if it was the truth or a lie.

Thin ice, truly.

So, like the smart guy he was, he shrugged his shoulders and put a fry into his mouth as nonchalantly as he could.

“Smart,” Derek commented, a glint in his eyes.

“What?”

“Not answering.”

“Oh, screw you!” Stiles blushed hotly, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. Derek chuckled again, a rumbling sound in his chest that Stiles wanted to lean into.

“I brought it here, you know.” He fumbled around going through his pockets. “Tell me if someone’s looking.” Stiles, distracted by Derek’s playful smile, did in fact not look, but thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

“Ugh, that doesn’t taste any better than that breakfast we had when we were on the run,” Derek’s whole body shivered when he emptied his glass in one large gulp.

“Yeah, I remember that one. Couldn’t even see toast for two months after that.”

“I got really lucky with the eggs,” when Derek laughed, he threw his head back and held onto his chest with his hand. It made Stiles smile. He wanted Derek to laugh freely like this more often.

The earlier tension was already lifted.

“That you did,” after a short pause where he nibbled on another fry, Stiles asked “The wine working already?”

“Hmhm.” Derek nodded, still grinning.

“Do you want to go to the park after?” The question as so much out of left field that Stiles didn’t know what to do with it.

“To the park?”

“Yep,” Derek popped the p and leaned back as if that answered anything.

“Why the park?”

“That’s where Laura and I went when we wanted to get away.” Stiles froze, Derek stared down at his hands, obviously thinking that he had said too much too fast.

After a minute of tense silence, where Stiles contemplated around fifty different answers to that particular confession, he said:

“You went there with Laura?” Derek nodded, still not looking up.

“Then I want to go there,” Derek’s gaze shot up to meet Stiles’ tentative hope making Stiles’ throat tight with emotion.

“Okay.”

“Let me just get the cheque and we can go,” Stiles was half way out of his seat when Derek pressed him back down.

“I wanted to apologise for the last time, would it be okay with you if I paid?”

“Derek-“

“We can split if you really want to, I won’t be mad.”

“No- it’s- it’s fine. Thank you.” While Derek’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes, it was a start at least. Not paying for dinner was a small price Stiles could pay to lift the mood. And he didn’t want to fight with Derek over money anyway.

“I’ve got your coat,” Derek announced when he returned and handed it to Stiles, who promptly put it on, having been slightly cold all through dinner. Derek halted in his motion where he was about to put away his wallet.

“What?” Stiles looked up from binding the coat around his waist.

“I-“ Derek coughed, then started again: “That coat looks very-“ he gestured at Stiles, who had no idea what was going on. It seemed as if Derek was defect.

Then, finally, he muttered: “It looks very good on you.”

“Thanks,” Stiles flashed bright red, fiddling with the belt. He suddenly didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

* * *

The ride to the park didn’t take long. They entered side by side, swallowed by the darkness of the night. Stiles wondered for a brief moment if he should be afraid, strolling around like this, but then he remembered who was his companion and that Derek was thoroughly capable of defending him.

“Just a few more steps,” Derek directed him. Stiles fought vehemently against the flashback of his picnic with Lucas.

“Here,” he pulled Stiles down onto a bench overlooking most of the park, the lights of the town somewhere in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” Stiles mumbled, without having reason to be quiet. It felt intimate, sitting beside each other like this, without anyone else around.

“You like it?”

Stiles nodded and leant back against the cold bench. He shivered a bit, the night air getting to him even under the coat.

“I never asked if you were alright after Lucas…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence, it was clear already, what he was referring to.

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered honestly, “I didn’t see it coming, you know? I thought we were doing okay…” He fought against the suffocating feeling in his chest. Even though, Lucas may have been right in saying Stiles was in love with Derek, it didn’t hurt any less being rejected, even more so by a person who had been genuinely interested.

“He said something about being unavailable?” Derek didn’t sound as if he suspected something, more like he really wanted to know.

“Yeah, kinda.” Stiles wasn’t all too sure where this line of questioning was going. And then the crux of the issue was being poked at by Derek in his next turn of inquiry.

“Him or you?”

Stiles hesitated, one hundred and one scenarios playing simultaneously in his mind, all of them at full speed. He shouldn’t admit to it, shouldn’t say it. But one glance into Derek’s eyes, Lucas’ words echoing his mind and his own courage in his bones, he made his decision: “Me.”

The world slowed down then, for just a moment, giving Stiles time to watch Derek’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips curl into a smile and his lashes flutter. In that one moment, he knew he had done the right thing.

For a while, neither of them said anything, both staring ahead, lost in their own thoughts. Then, Derek turned his head and asked, voice soft: “Did you like dinner tonight?”

Had anyone else asked that same question, Stiles would have accused them of fishing for compliments, but it was Derek. And he knew Derek well enough to recognise genuine interest when he heard it. So, he made an affirming noise, still not looking at the Alpha.

“Would you want to do it again? I could pick you up, we could watch a movie together and then get something to eat. If you want. Just the two of us.” he paused, crossed his arms, “Or we could go for breakfast. I know you like those waffles they make at Sparky’s.”

Stiles smiled, a flutter in his stomach because Derek had paid enough attention to know that small little detail.

“I’d like that.”

“What?”

“All of it,” he couldn’t help the quiver in his voice “If you want.”

“Yes.”

Comfortable silence settled between them once more. Stiles used it to assess the circumstances.

He just didn’t know what to do with the situation. While they had eaten together before, they had never shared such intimate moments and he didn’t know how to react to it. The whole evening, Derek had behaved differently, had even been flirting, if Stiles wasn’t mistaken.

And now, when there was a real chance Derek could maybe, possible, allegedly, like him back, Stiles had no idea how to handle it.

“Are you alright? Your heart is racing.” Suddenly, there was a warm hand covering Stiles’ ribs. To say the least, it did absolutely nothing to calm the frantically beating organ down. Rather the opposite.

“Peachy,” Stiles squeaked out.

“Do you want to head back?” He must have noticed how Stiles hadn’t stopped shivering. The cold had settled in his bones and his nerves didn’t exactly make it better.

And while he wanted to say no, cling to Derek’s legs, if he had to, to keep him in place and from ever leaving, Stiles was aware that he was in the middle of an existential crisis.

Derek led him back, caught him when he stumbled across a root on the way and pulled him upright again. His hand had found its place on his lower back, drawing circles Stiles tried hard not to concentrate on. Derek opened the door of the Camaro for him, helped him inside, seemingly unable to stop touching him.

“I hope you sleep well tonight, Stiles,” Derek whispered when they reached Stiles’ front door. The air was full of electricity, prickling against Stiles’ skin.

“You too,” he croaked out.

For just the briefest moment, Derek looked as if he wanted to lean in, but before Stiles could even blink, it was over and the Alpha was stalking back to his car.

Stiles fumbled for his key to unlock the door when he heard determined steps coming closer. He barely managed to turn around when warm hands held him in place. A breath stuck in his throat.

Derek closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

Then he looked down at Stiles, smiled shyly and mumbled: “Sorry, I just had to do that. Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t have time to do anything besides stare at Derek’s retreating form, when the last minute registered. His face flushed hot, his heart did a weird stumble. A hand touched the skin where he still felt Derek’s lips against him.

The smile tugging on his lips was wide enough to reach his ears.

That night, he slept peacefully.

* * *

Three days went by without anything happening that would have been out of the ordinary. Stiles did his assignments, attended classes, went shopping with Erica and Allison for a new sweater and ate dinner with his Dad. It was as close to normal as he could get and he revelled in it.

Derek texted every once in a while, asking about his day and telling about his own, complaining about Isaac’s inability to make a list for groceries and Boyd’s constant snarky remarks whenever Derek caved when faced with a pouting Isaac.

Three days, was all Stiles could get as a vacation from the supernatural. Therefore, he wasn’t even surprised when the next morning, he was woken up rather crudely by someone pouring freezing cold water over him, his blanket, his pillow and overall everything in his bed.

“Lydia is running in circles, get up!” He was face to face with a fuming Jackson, who looked mad enough to kill someone. The wolf pulled Stiles up and out of the room, without letting him grab more than a jacket. The Porsche screeched around a corner before Stiles could even blink.

He breathed in deliberately loud, something akin to a sigh, turned to Jackson, who was driving as if hell was on his heels– tires?– whatever, then he collected his thoughts and said, without any malice whatsoever and calm as you please: “What the fuck is going on?”

“Lydia just go an e-mail from her professor back that says, she and another student are in a competition for the internship.”

“And that is reason enough for me to be dragged over at seven in the morning, why?”

“Because she was sure she had it with her thesis.” Jackson drove like a mad man, especially when he was stressed. Needless to say, Stiles clung to the handle above his head with all his might.

“Couldn’t that have waited for a decent time? Or at least ‘til nine?” Stiles complained and then yelled: “Watch the road!” when Jackson missed another car by an inch.

“I won’t be any help if you kill me on the way there!” The Porsche slowed, a bit, almost imperceptibly.

“If she doesn’t get it, I’ll go over and kick that guy’s ass until he can taste his dusty ass grade in his mouth,” Jackson muttered under his breath. Stiles suppressed a smirk, knowing full well that both Jackson and Lydia were dancing around each other again. A push and pull, almost like a Tango.

“She call you?” Stiles inquired tentatively, not wanting Jackson to catch on what he was really asking about. The Beta nodded, teeth clenching.

“Was in total hysterics when I picked up!” A little more quietly, he cursed: “Fucking idiot!”

“Why? She’s totally gonna kill it.”

“Tell her that!” He parked the Porsche, ripped Stiles’ door open and pulled him out, shoved him towards Lydia’s porch and stepped up behind him. From inside, Stiles already heard yelling, cursing and something being thrown.

“Told you,” Jackson mumbled, giving Stiles another push forward.

“Where were you? You can’t just disappear on me!” Lydia came storming out like a fury, hitting Jackson on the arm and not even sparing Stiles a look.

“I got you help!”

“I don’t need help! What I need is for this incompetent cretin of a professor to go back to community college and learn his own subject before daring to grade my thesis and telling me I need to participate in a competition for a spot in the internship I wanted since the first day I signed up and which has been promised to me by that stupid idiot of a man when I applied!”

Jackson shrunk back, suddenly a few inches shorter than his actual size. Stiles pitied the guy, there was just no winning when Lydia got like this.

“And what are you doing here?” She turned to Stiles, fire in her eyes, hair a mess and mouth pressed in a straight line.

“I wanted to-“ He wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence because Lydia hauled him inside, pushed him down on her couch and dropped her computer onto his lap.

“Read it! Go on!” her voice had taken on a screeching tone that had Jackson covering his ears. “Read it!”

The e-mail, Stiles had to admit, was written rather impolitely, telling Lydia that, while the professor could see her effort, it was not enough to enter the internship and that she would still need to participate in the competition to prove she had it in her to work under high pressure and still bring results. Even Stiles found the wording insulting.

He handed the laptop back, fully ready to agree with everything Lydia had to say, but she had started to engage in a debate with Jackson about leaving her without explanation.

Stiles took the time while they screamed at each other to shoot an emergency text to Derek. _You up already, Sourwolf?_

The answer came promptly and Stiles smiled to himself.

_On a run._

_Any chance you can cut it short and save me from Lydia’s wrath?_

_What did you do?_

_I take offence to that. Why do you always assume that I did something?_

_Because I know you?_

Stiles scoffed, earning him a glare from Lydia and an eyeroll from Jackson before they returned to their conversation.

_Can you just come over?_

Feeling bold, he added: _I’ll even say please._

Derek sent only one word back: _Promise?_

Stiles’ face burned, his pulse quickened. Apparently so much so that Jackson noticed and asked: “What’s with you?”

He answered: “Nothing.” but Jackson was already back yelling at Lydia to stop overreacting. A move, Stiles thought to be very, very wrong. He was proven correct, when Lydia smacked Jackson’s arm once again and launched into a rant about women’s rights of all things and that no man should ever tell a woman she’s overreacting because it is a demeaning thing to say.

_Sure._

_I’m on my way._

Stiles smirked, pleased with the power he convinced himself he had over Derek.

Not long after, Jackson and Lydia were still screaming and yelling and accusing and alleging, Derek barrelled in, looking more distraught than Stiles thought necessary to get him out of here.

“I know my timing’s off, but I need Stiles to come with me.” Stiles applauded him, inwardly. This was one hell of a performance.

“He’s not leaving! I need him here!” Lydia screeched. Derek didn’t even flinch.

“Stiles is coming with me. That is an order!” His voice rang through the living room, his eyes glowed red. It was the exact moment, Stiles realised something else was going on.

“Come on,” Derek pulled him up, although a lot gentler than Jackson– or Lydia for that matter. Only when they reached the car, did Stiles ask the question that had been burning on his tongue:

“What’s going on?”

“There was a shooting.” Stiles’ stomach plummeted, his earlier glee at having Derek respond so eagerly had vanished completely.

He struggled to even get the question: “Where.” out of his mouth without choking.

“Store.”

“How’d you know?”

“Drove by on the way here. Saw your Dad outside questioning people.”

“What happened?” They didn’t have shootings here. While most of Stiles’ neighbours owned a Winchester or other, they usually only hunted once a year.

“Two guys got into an argument because- apparently both wanted the last available turkey.” Derek stared straight at the road, hitting the gas even harder after unclenching his jaw and fell silent.

Stiles wasn’t sure he had heard this right.

“Over a turkey?” He couldn’t believe his ears “They shot each other over a turkey?”

“Yes. Nobody else got hurt– thank God– but they shot each other clean in the chest,” he paused just to reveal: “simultaneously.”

What even was this town? If people were killing each other for turkeys than Stiles didn’t want to live on this planet anymore.

* * *

A few minutes later, Derek reached the precinct, where the Sheriff was already waiting for them.

“Thank you, son,” he said to Derek– strange much?– and led them inside.

“Nothing unusual about them. Both single, in their mid-forties, no children.” Mediocre, was the word that came to mind.

“We checked the surveillance cameras and talked to the employees. The cashier knew both of them.” His father scratched his head.

“Said they were always nice to her, never complained about waiting in line or rushing her.”

“Then what gives?” Stiles hated those cases, where the people seemed so normal before they decided to fuck it all up one day just because they felt like it.

“Well, that’s why I told Derek to get you.”

Stiles threw Derek a look that expressed how uncomfortable he felt about not being informed until now.

“Look at that.” The Sheriff motioned to the monitor where a video was playing. Stiles wanted to protest, insisting that he didn’t need to watch two people shoot each other, when he noticed something off.

He cursed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“That’s…” Derek stared at him, obviously horrified.

“Greed. Has to be.” Stiles spat out. The man on the tape, clothed in a suit with expensive shoes and a golden watch on his wrist, tapped the victims on the shoulder, looked directly up at the camera with a shit eating grin. An opulent golden ring flashed on his finger, almost in a mockery. He disappeared after a second, just when the two men turned to each other.

“I figured that‘s more your territory than mine.” His Dad was pale around the nose, worry etched into every line on his face.

“Boys, I know you’re working hard and that I’m asking too much of you, but please, I’m begging you, if there is anything you can do to speed this up, I need you to do it.” Derek ducked his head, Stiles fidgeted on the spot.

“I’m tired of having another body in the morgue every other day.”

“We know, Dad.”

“We tried to track them but-“ Derek sounded as helpless as Stiles felt.

“How many are left?”

“Three.”

“This one included?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything we can do? Anything I can tell my officers?”

“Tell them to call you when people start behaving odd. Like, if they break out in an argument over nothing. If they are greedy or never satisfied.” His father didn’t seem particularly happy with that bit of information but it was all they had.

“We’re trying, Dad. I promise.” He felt so guilty, all of a sudden, a pit opening up in his stomach.

“I know, son, I know.”

A silence settled over them until Derek broke it, suggesting: “We can try looking around town for it. Maybe he hasn’t gone far…”

“Be careful,” was all his father said as parting words.

* * *

In the car, Stiles turned to Derek, desperate anger in his voice: “This has to end.” Derek agreed with a clipped nod, sporting a determined expression. 

“Start at the grocery store? See if you can smell it?”

“I’ll try…” They both knew it would be next to impossible, but it was their only chance. After Lust, Derek had told Stiles he smelt a faint scent of sulphur on the girl, but it hadn’t been strong enough for him to be sure it had originated from the demon or if it had been the gas n’ sip. Stiles still wanted to pursue the possibility, it was all they had.

Derek leaned out of the window after he had parked the car.

“There’s nothing!” Derek hit the steering wheel hard enough for it to make a protesting sound. Stiles put a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’ll talk to Danny, see what we can do with security cams.” Derek didn’t say anything, focussed on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“We’ll find the bastard and kill him. You know that, right? It’s gonna be okay.” Derek still didn’t react.

“Derek- look at me,” he grabbed his chin and turned his head so that the wolf was forced to make eye contact.

“We’ll get him! I promise.” The Alpha seemed to relax, even if it was just a fraction. He loosened his grip on the wheel and buried his head in his hands.

“We need to stop this. I can’t- we can’t just watch people get killed.”

“I know. I know that, Derek. But there’s nothing we can do.”

“Even if we get this one, there are still two more. And if Greed just appeared and already has this kind of an impact, then…”

“Then Wrath and Envy will be even worse.” Stiles concluded.

“It’s just like Gluttony said- they increase in danger…” The fear was palpable in the car.

“There is no way to track them. Derek, I tried-“

“I know,” he put a hand over Stiles’ “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else to die,” Stiles whispered it so quietly, against the burning in his throat. He refused to cry. Those demons didn’t deserve his tears.

Derek admitted over the sound of starting the engine: “I don’t know what to do.”

“Pack meeting,” was Stiles’ only answer.

But, in the end, nothing more came of it. They went on their patrols, searched the town high and low, checked in with each other, all for nothing.

* * *

Until Stiles ran into Lydia in the library way after closing time. He only saw her because one light was on inside and his curiosity got the better of him. That they scared each other so badly that Stiles would have nightmares from it didn’t matter.

“What are you even doing here? It’s nearly midnight.” Lydia didn’t answer but instead resumed skipping through papers. Stiles asked again, but was ignored once more. He leaned over to try and get a look at what she was doing when she blocked him.

“Just let me see, damn it.” He tried to get around her “Lydia- let me-“

An elbow to his stomach and he had had it. Without any haste, he stalked around her, stretching one arm out so that she couldn’t reach him and grabbed a random page from the desk.

“What’s-“

“It’s nothing, give it back!” She scratched his skin with her nails, fighting more viciously than Stiles deemed necessary. But Stiles’ eyes were already glued to the sheet in his hands. This couldn’t be it. There was another explanation to this that he hadn’t gotten.

Surely, Lydia wouldn’t-

“It’s not what it looks like,” she muttered after realising that Stiles had caught on.

“Lydia…”

“I just-“ she paused, pink tinging her cheeks “I need that internship.”

“So, you’re cheating?” He threw the accusation into the room where it stood like that damn pink elephant everyone always talked about.

“It’s not- I’m not cheating! I just needed to know what he expects from the projects…”

“That’s cheating!” He couldn’t believe that Lydia– Lydia of all people– would do this.

“I don’t know what to say…” he placed the page back on the table, took a step back.

“Stiles, you can’t tell anyone.”

“You stole his notes. You stole your professor’s notes to conjure up a perfect competition entry.” Why would she do that? She’d always been so confident in her ability to outsmart everyone else.

“You don’t need that.”

“I do! You have no idea how that feels like. I need to win. I need that internship!”

“Then get it fair and square!” Stiles shouted and flinched when he remembered where he was.

“I’m just levelling the playing field.”

“How is cheating levelling the playing field?”

“Because he likes Curt better. He doesn’t want a woman in his internship, that’s why I didn’t get it after I handed in my thesis. He just wants Curt to get it and that’s how he can do it!”

“That’s a bullshit excuse!”

“Screw you, Stilinski!” Lydia screeched. Stiles was taken aback by the look in her eyes, the absolute disregard for everything he was saying.

He turned on his heel.

“If that’s what you want to do…” He left the door to the library open, fully aware that the alarm would go off in a minute and went back to his car. Lydia cursed inside the library and quickly grabbed all her things.

She was gone just before the police showed up.

Stiles didn’t tell his father who had used the library this late, but he did tell Derek, who was just as disappointed in her as Stiles was.

* * *

Two days later and no other incident had been reported to the police station. The pack didn’t want to relax though, quite aware that Greed could very well just gather its strength to hit them even harder. Meanwhile, Derek invited Stiles to watch a movie with him that he knew Stiles had had his eye on for a long time.

They ended up on the couch, pressed against each other with their fingers brushing every now and then. It was torture, but the best one there was.

Around eight, Stiles slowly untangled himself from Derek– or tried to, since the wolf in question had apparently been turned into an overly large teddy bear with octopus arms.

“I don’t want you to leave yet,” Derek was pouting, even though he refused to admit it.

“I promised Scott to look over his assignment for him. Deadline is tomorrow.” Stiles attempted to stand up from where Derek had slung his arms around him.

“Scott can do it himself.”

“If Scott could do it himself, I wouldn’t have to help him,” Stiles liked the way Derek clung to him.

“Come on, Sourwolf. I really need to go.”

“I don’t want to. Just ditch him.” His tone was playful, the only reason why Stiles didn’t take offence to someone proposing he’d ditch his best friend.

“Let go, Derek.” Stiles huffed, determined not to cave. Scott needed him. Scott was his best friend.

“I can make it worth your while,” Derek whispered, his face turning an interesting shade of red. This was the point, when Stiles realised something was off. They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t really moved beyond friendship yet– occasional flirting to the side. In all honesty, Stiles was still trying to figure out where they stood.

“Derek-“ The wolf in question suddenly sat up– as if triggered– probably because the tone in Stiles’ voice had made the rejection clear and was up from the couch in the matter of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, already on the way to the door, “I’ll see you around, have a good night.” He very much ran up to his bedroom, leaving Stiles thoroughly confused. Sometimes, he thought, there was just no pleasing Derek. Whatever he did, it seemed to be the wrong move.

On the way to Scott’s house, his ringtone nearly ad him swerve off the road.

“Please don’t tell me there was another shooting?” Stiles’ Dad didn’t answer immediately, which only served to make Stiles more anxious. 

“Dad? What’s going on?”

“Are you home?”

“At Scott’s,” even though it was only partly true.

“Stay there, please.”

“Tell me what’s going on.” Stiles said, with emphasis.

“We saw the guy- Greed. He’s strolling through the streets and everyone he touches starts behaving like, I don’t know- greedy. Some robbed an ATM, another one took all the donuts from the shop and ran with them. It’s-“ Stiles heard him sigh “It’s complete chaos and I don’t want you involved.”

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m almost in Scott’s living room.”

“Stay there until I call again.”

“Promise. And Dad-“ he reached the door, rang the bell and was met with Scott’s worried face “Be careful.” The call was disconnected and Stiles knew from the way Scott fidgeted that he had heard at least one half of the conversation.

“You sure there’s nothing we can do?” Stiles nodded absentmindedly, while about a thousand wheels turned in his head.

“Let’s get this over with,” Stiles pulled Scott inside, locked the door, even though it wouldn’t keep Greed out if it really wanted to come in.

About an hour into Stiles revising what Scott had whipped up, he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Did you notice anything weird with Lydia lately?”

“Not really, why?” Of course not. Maybe he should have asked Erica. Scott wasn’t really the most perceptive person.

“Nothing,” he resumed working on the assignment, crossing out sentences and rewriting statements.

His father called around 10.30, letting them know that, at least for now, the situation was under control and Stiles was free to return home whenever he wanted.

* * *

The situation got worse by the minute. First, people were jumping at each other’s throats for taking the last cheddar cheese package or buying the seat in that one row in the cinema everyone wanted. Lydia refused to talk to Stiles, left a few quite impolite messages on his phone insisting that he didn’t tell the pack about her late night “study” session.

Stiles, who had already told Derek, tried to keep that promise, thinking it wasn’t really his place. Not that he liked the idea of cheating but, in the end, he wasn’t the one doing it. He firmly believed keeping his nose out of other people’s business– there were a few exceptions where he had made it his business– but apart from that, he was fairly sure this particular situation had nothing to do with him.

That was until he stumbled across Curt mapping out his project in the library. From Lydia’s stories, he had the strong urge to hate the posh guy with the tie around his neck, looking like a snob.

He sat down opposite him, curiosity or nosiness being his main motivator, and watched out of the corners of his eyes. Curt seemed completely absent to the world and didn’t notice Stiles staring.

Or so Stiles thought. Because after ten minutes, the guy suddenly asked, without lifting his head: “Is everything alright?”

Stiles, too embarrassed at having been caught, spluttered and nearly fell off his chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you- I just noticed, you were looking at me.” Curt kept on talking completely oblivious to Stiles’ world turning upside down.

“But then, maybe you were just thinking and I sat in your way? I do that sometimes too, you know?” This guy was nice. This guy was perfectly nice and either Lydia had exaggerated big time or he had a hidden agenda Stiles hadn’t unravelled yet.

“Sorry, just thinking.” Stiles apologise, hoping that Curt wouldn’t call him out on the obvious lie.

“I’m Curt,” he extended his hand “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Stiles.”

“Ah, do you know Lydia Martin by any chance?” Stiles leaned forward, interested in what Curt had to say about her and nodded.

“She’s talked a lot about you- or, I hope it’s you and not someone else, but then again, Stiles isn’t really a common name…” He smiled, showing a row of white teeth and dimples.

“Anyway, I’m really curious what she’s going to hand in as our project. I’m not even sure, I have a chance against her, you know? She’s so smart and I really thought our professor would give her the internship right off the bat.”

This guy was either playing his role perfectly or he was truly too nice for his own good. Stiles couldn’t align the image of Curt Lydia had painted and the one he had in front of him with each other.

As if they were two different people.

“I’m doing my best,” Curt continued, without realising that Stiles had tuned out “Maybe I can get the internship but I don’t think I’ll make it to the final cut. It has Lydia’s name all over it.” There was not even a trace of jealousy in his voice, a feat not easily accomplished like Stiles knew from personal experience.

They chatted for a minute longer and then Stiles went on his way.

He had to talk to Lydia.

* * *

To his utter surprise– but maybe not so much if he really thought about it– Jackson stormed out of the Martins' house, angry enough to push past Stiles without saying hello. Those two needed to get a grip, seriously. And this was coming from him.

“What do you want?” Lydia barked from where she was leaning against the door.

“I just met Curt.” The flinch that went through her just for mentioning his name was spectacular. 

“And guess what? He’s one of the nice ones. So, either you are delusional or you are lying.” He had had it with her attitude lately. Not even Lydia was allowed to behave like this.

“He’s trying to get my internship!” She screeched, eyes wild.

“ _Your_ internship? I thought it was still up in the air who got it?” Maybe the jab was unnecessarily cruel, but he needed to take her down a few notches.

“Fuck you!”

This was enough. Seriously. He had better things to do than listen to her curse him even though she was the one constantly lying.

“You know what?” He turned around before leaving, his voice full of anger “You’re not the only smart person around here! You’re not the only one that wants or deserves an internship and Curt is working hard on it and he had nothing but nice things to say about you when you were constantly bashing him! I’m sick of it!”

He stepped outside.

“You can’t go around cheating, shoving people away because you think you’re better than them and get mad when not everything turns out how you want it to be! That’s not how it works! And guess what? The world doesn’t end if you don’t get that internship! But I won’t stand here and keep lying for you to the pack and covering for you when you’re cheating to get something others are working hard on!”

Over his shoulder, he yelled: “And don’t bother calling me!”

He didn’t hear her answer, and frankly, didn’t care.

* * *

Fuming, he returned home, where he found Jackson killing zombies on his console. He huffed, not in the mood to deal with him but feeling compelled when he saw the expression on his face.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Me neither,” Stiles sat down beside Jackson, equally miserable.

“I just want her to be normal again. We can’t even talk without yelling at each other anymore.” Jackson kept his gaze locked onto the screen but his thoughts were somewhere else.

“Maybe when she gets that internship…” there was unmistakable hope in his voice.

“Maybe…”

* * *

He would always remember the moment Lydia called him at two in the morning two days later. Greed had been a constant menace in Beacon Hills for way too long and Stiles had preferred to stay inside instead of getting touched by it. Maybe that was, why Lydia’s call came as such a surprise.

Not only because he had explicitly told her not to call but because he thought she wouldn’t even want to. Yet here she was.

“I made a mistake,” her voice sounded different than the times before. Humble and sheepish.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to but continue,” Stiles couldn’t help the sarcasm.

“I got the internship,” she didn’t seem glad, rather the opposite.

“Congrats?”

“You don’t understand,” Stiles heard her draw a shaky breath “I shouldn’t have gotten it. Curt should have.” That was new. Suddenly, Stiles was all ears, his heartbeat picking up a notch. The change in demeanour too drastic to ignore.

“I- I sent Dr. Craig an anonymous tip that Curt cheated so he was disqualified.”

“But-“

“I got the internship and I was so glad at first, but then, I thought, why not get a better grade on my thesis too? So, I went back in and asked Dr. Craig for it and he said no and I got so angry. I wasn’t even happy about getting the internship anymore…”

Stiles wasn’t sure he could follow.

“I should have realised it earlier…”

“That cheating is wrong? Yeah-“

“No!” Her voice cut through the receiver, sharp and with an underlying urgency that had the hairs on Stiles’ arms rise.

“Don’t you get it?”

“No- you’re not making any sense…”

“I didn’t think it’d be me, that it’d touch me. But I was wrong.” And then the pieces clicked into place, one by one.

“Greed,” Stiles whispered.

“Yes.”

“Where- when-“

“I don’t know- I- I remember when I was in the library getting those books you helped me translate that a man with an expensive watch pat my shoulder and told me, he liked ambitious people. I thought it was strange but I hadn’t seen him before- I didn’t put it together.”

“How-“

“How did I realise?” she laughed but it was hollow, void of any joy “because I needed more than the internship. I needed more books, a better grade, just more and it wouldn’t stop! It just wouldn’t stop!”

She had started crying, a desperate tone in her voice.

“I’m on my way!”

“No! Stay where you are!”

“Why?”

“Because he’s outside!”

Stiles’ brain short-circuited.

“He’s where?”

“Outside, smoking.”

“I’m coming over!”

“No, please! I think- I think he’s just trying to scare me! Maybe to make sure I’m still under the influence.”

But Stiles was already on the way to the Jeep, running as if his life depended on it.

“I told you not to come!” Lydia screeched into the phone, obviously having heard the Jeep roar to life.

“I don’t care! Keep talking!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shove you away or to fight with Jackson. I was so on edge, so driven to get what I wanted. It was like a rush, you know? I needed to win! I needed this internship! And you were right-“

“About what?”

“Curt is a nice person. He has always been kind to me. I- I just needed him out of the way and I thought, if you believed he was being an asshole than you’d help me…”

“I get it,” and he did. That didn’t mean he wasn’t mad, just that he understood.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Maybe you should tell that to Jackson,” because, while Stiles had been angry with her, Jackson had been borderline hurt. And he didn’t deserve that.

“I will. I promise, I will.” after a pause, she asked: “Where are you?”

“Not far. Five minutes. Can you still see him?”

“Yes.”

Stiles hit the gas harder and screeched around the corner into Lydia’s street. And there he was. In a suit, staring up at her window with a smirk on his face. Stiles was prepared to hit him with the Jeep when he turned around, saw the car coming onto him and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, Stiles lost control over the wheel, the Jeep swerved, got off the street. Stiles hit the brakes but they didn’t work. He looked up, saw the tree in front of him and leaned to the side as best as he could with the seatbelt still over his chest.

He crashed.

The impact was hard.

Somewhere, he heard Lydia scream. He needed to get out of the car and protect her. But there was just no moving. He couldn’t get out.

“Stiles!” Someone ripped his door open, pulled him out with surprising strength.

“Stiles are you okay? I’m sorry,” Lydia’s arms closed around him, she sobbed against his shirt. The words “I’m sorry” still on her lips, she helped him sit down beside the car, dazed and slightly disorientated, with a ringing in his ears.

It took a minute or two for him to get his bearings, realise what had happened and feel the ache in his hands from the impact.

“Do you need the ER? I can drive you,” but he refused. Maybe his wrists were a bit injured but nothing serious was wrong.

“Where is he?” Stiles rasped out.

“Gone. You scared him.”

“Can I sit down for a bit longer,” but Lydia had already thrown a blanket over his shoulder and her phone in hands. It didn’t take long for Derek to appear out of nowhere.

“An hour!” The Alpha barked “I am gone for an hour and you decide to crash your car?” Stiles didn’t particularly feel like explaining himself, so he just shrugged.

Lydia, God bless her, tried to calm Derek down by blaming herself and explaining the whole story.

The night ended with Stiles on Derek’s bed being cuddled by the Alpha and his wrists bandaged.

* * *

The pack was currently searching the woods, the wind blowing over their heads and muting every other sound besides its howling. Rain drops were falling more frequently by the minute and Stiles felt the pit in his stomach grow.

“She has to be here. I saw her run into the preserve!” Erica yelled from somewhere to his right.

“Why wouldn’t she wait for us?” Isaac fought against the rain.

“I smell blood,” Scott said, making Stiles halt in his steps and Jackson roar loudly.

Derek bellowed: “Silence!”

“I’ve got her!” Boyd, the best tracker on the team without doubt, had picked up her scent.

“This way,” he gestured for them to follow him. Stiles had a hard time keeping up, just as Allison who was running beside him, her bow at the ready.

And then they saw her, standing upright in the middle of the clearing with slashes all over her upper body. The demon, in its true form was circling her like a wolf would its prey. Stiles saw the ring reflect in Lydia’s hand and couldn’t help being proud of her.

“A Banshee,” Greed snarled, “You shouldn’t even exist, little girl.”

“Well, too bad!” Lydia bit back, not leaving her eyes off of him.

“Almost a pity to kill you now!” It attacked, hit her with its claws but Lydia didn’t flinch. Neither had realised the pack had joined them. Derek motioned to Stiles to keep his eyes on the demon and slowly stepped into the clearing.

“Ah the Alpha! Welcome to the show!” Greed grinned, teeth sharp and claws clicking.

“Derek-“

“Let her go!”

“That won’t be possible, I’m afraid!”

“Derek-“

He shushed her with a move of his hands, standing in between them as a protective wall.

“Noble,” the demon commented and crouched down. Derek did the same. Stiles, thought, looked at Lydia. She met his eyes and suddenly, a smile graced her lips, screaming of danger and more deathly than both creatures in front of her.

She let lose a scream so loud the trees around them lost their leaves, that even the wind seemed to still for a moment.

It had the desired effect. The wolves and the demon covered their ears. Derek turned to Lydia, but she stepped out of his shadow and around him, not registering or not caring that he reached out to shove her behind him.

A knife in her hand she approached the demon who didn’t see her coming because he was still caught up in her voice that seemed to envelop it like a cocoon.  
Not a word was said when she slit its throat.

Erica sucked in a shocked breath, Allison’s finger twitched around the arrow. Derek stared from the ground up to Lydia who kicked the demon until it fell back against the ground and turned into dust.

Her body reacted to the adrenaline leaving just like Stiles’ would have. Derek caught her before she fell. The rest of the pack ran towards them, circling her.

It was Jackson, who spoke up first: “Are you alright?”

He eyed the bleeding cuts with venom in his gaze.

Stiles couldn’t blame him for it. 

* * *

They wrapped her in a blanket and placed her on Derek’s couch. She remained mute for a long time, staring ahead to somewhere only she could see. An eerie silence settled between them.

Then, she whispered: “I didn’t realise he touched me.”

“How? Seriously! How could you– _you of all people_ – not have realised this earlier? You’re a freaking genius for God’s sake!” Erica snapped, earning a glare from Derek and Jackson and a pat on her tigh from Boyd.

“I- I was just- I didn’t think I’d be-“ Lydia stuttering was setting more than one alarm off in Stiles’ head.

“You didn’t think you’d be touched by any of them,” Jackson finished for her, his face dark and his eyes hooded. The weight of his words sunk in slowly, but when they did every member of the pack shared a look of equal hurt among them.

“I don’t think I’m better than you, that’s not it!” She insisted, tried to reach out to Jackson but the wolf flinched away from her touch. It seemed, as if her lie made the situation even worse. Jackson was hurt, that much was evident.

And that didn’t bode well.

“I just didn’t think it’d be Greed.” Stiles had seen Lydia in various states of unbalanced but never, not once had he seen her this desperate.

“Jackson-“

“No,” he shrugged her off, stomping to the stairs and shutting Derek’s bedroom door behind him, but not before throwing over his shoulder:

“Just leave me alone.” His voice didn’t hold any anger, which worried Stiles more than a shout would have.

* * *

Stiles decided to go after him. Nobody else knew how to handle Jackson when he was hurt and Lydia wallowed in self-pity against Allison’s shoulder in the living room.

“I love her,” Jackson admitted once Stiles entered the room, “I’ve always-“ he stumbled over his words, tried again: “I always knew what she meant to me.”

Stiles didn’t know if it was his turn to say something, when the Beta continued, head low and hands shaking: “I never thought she’d feel that way. That I’m not- that she’s better than me, you know? We were always supposed to be equal.”

“You are equal, Jackson. She didn’t mean it like that.”

“But we’re not, you know? And I didn’t realise that until today.” His voice broke in the middle of the sentence. It was painful to listen to him.

“She really believed that out of all of us, she’d be the one who would not be affected. That she was too confident, too smart to fall for it.”

“You can’t fault her for that.”

“That’s not- I don’t fault her for that.”

“Then what is it?”

“She thought she was better than us- than me!” Jackson suddenly yelled. “She thought she was better than me. That there would be no question I’d be infected by at least one. She wouldn’t have been surprised if I was the one hit by Pride, or by Greed or whatever.”

“You thought that too,” Stiles carefully acknowledged.

“I’m not denying that. But if she always thought I’m so easily affected, why be with me at all?” The pang in Stiles’ chest felt like he had been shot. Jackson, angry, lonely Jackson. His heart ached for the boy beside him, so lost in his world of pain that he didn’t see how much he had changed, how good he truly had become– had maybe, just maybe, always been.

“Because you matter to her. She likes you, for you. Even though you were the Kanima, even though you did what you did, she still liked you. To her, it doesn’t matter whether you are affected by any of them.”

“But she thought she wouldn’t be. She thinks, I don’t deserve her,” The last bit was said so breathlessly, so broken, Stiles felt himself reach out to Jackson.

“You do. Of course, you do.”

“She doesn’t think that.”

“I do, you absolute moron,” Lydia’s voice boomed louder than Stiles thought possible. She sounded off, her eyes had red spots. It was so abundantly clear that she had been crying. Still, she was holding herself up determinedly, the blanket gone and a hard look in her eyes.

“Because I love you, Jackson.” Stiles brought as much distance between them and himself as he could, not wanting to intrude but still there if either of them needed him.

Jackson peered up from where he had hidden his head in his hands.

“I love you.” She leaned in, slowly, to give him time to move away.

“I never stopped loving you, Jackson. Sin or not. And I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you don’t deserve me. Because you do.” Tears shone in Jackson’s eyes, so unmistakably, so clearly, changing their colour to a deeper green.

“I’m sorry you ever felt you didn’t.” Their kiss was chaste, but full of emotions even Stiles felt from ten feet away.

He turned around, walked back to the rest of the pack.

And if he brushed Derek’s hand while sitting down beside him, it was his business and his alone.

* * *

Lydia righted her wrong by admitting to tampering– she had skillfully avoided the word cheating, but hey, nobody was perfect– and felt relieved. She hugged Curt on the way out of the lecture hall, happy to see tears shine in his eyes when he was told, he would be getting the internship.

The real surprise came a week later. Stiles and Lydia were having breakfast together, her phone now showing a shot of her with Jackson kissing her cheek, when he got the call. Stiles bemoaned his non-existent super-hearing because he didn’t understand what was being said.

“They’re offering me a spot too.” Lydia whispered after ending the call. “If I can submit another project in four days, I can enter too.”

“How?”

“Dr. Craig said that he thought I wasn’t using my full potential and he was impressed because I admitted what I had done even though I could have just taken the spot without saying anything.” She paused, then said around a lump in her throat “Curt told him to give me another chance. He said I was too brillian to pass up.”

Her tears were ones of joy and when she leaned back, not only had she overcome her demon, but she was finally thoroughly satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what your thoughts were on this chapter, if you liked it or if you didn't. 
> 
> Also, I'm really curious about your predictions for the last two sins. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it.


	7. Envy (Invidia) Why do you have it, when I don't?

_"If I asked you to list all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?"_

__

The emergency protocol should have been a fail-proof plan, but, as it was, whenever Scott and Isaac where involved, this was, unfortunately, not the case. It was also the reason, why Stiles found himself in the middle of nowhere on a deserted road with no idea where to go. His phone wouldn’t find a satellite that could inform the GPS of his current location, which, in turn, made it impossible to navigate.

Apart from that, Stiles privately thought, that he hadn’t invented the protocol for Scott to blatantly misuse it like this. He cursed himself for enabling his overexcited best friend to scare him into a coronary when he could have called like a normal person instead of sending the emergency code and the request to meet up asap. Bygones, Stiles thought and concentrated on the road.

On the passenger seat, Scott insisted they’d turn left while Isaac, who was studying the map of the area, opted for the opposite direction, hence the failed attempt to use the sat nav.

“Why did it have to be so far out of town?” Stiles complained while making a highly illegal u-turn. They didn’t have that much time left before at least one of their friends would start to question their whereabouts.

“You know why,” Scott’s good mood wasn’t dampened, in fact, the closer they got to where Stiles prayed the store was, the happier he got. Even Isaac– curly haired puppy Isaac– rolled his eyes at Scott in the rear-view mirror.

“Allison can’t know where we’re going and yadda yadda yadda,” Isaac’s Scott impression was so on point it was almost scary. Scott didn’t even scowl though, too engulfed in his personal bubble of glee and happiness and an overall level of bliss.

“I think- if I didn’t read this completely wrong and we’re actually somewhere in North Carolina-“ Stiles doubted they would have gotten lost that much but one could never know “then it should be around the next corner on the left side.”

And, lo and behold, he was right. Stiles could have kissed him. But he had a fleeting suspicion that Derek probably wouldn’t like that all too much, so, he refrained. Scott had his face practically plastered against the large shop window, leaving a smear when Isaac pulled him back.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” The shop assistant greeted them overtly friendly, thinking they were lost and certainly didn’t fit in here. And while Stiles saw reason behind that, he still thought it was unprofessional.

“I need an engagement ring,” Scott blurted out– which was rather obvious from the fact that they were in a jewellery shop, although, granted, he could just need a gift for his girlfriend.

“Do you have set a specific budget for me to keep in mind while I show you our collection or would you prefer to browse through our selection?” Isaac sniggered because she had unintentionally rhymed the words selection and collection and he was easily amused that way.

“Specific budget,” Stiles informed her and pulled Scott away from the vitrine he had been eyeing that was very much out of his price range.

“Let me put something together for you then,” she disappeared, not that hostile anymore. When she returned, the plate in her hands held about ten different rings, all shimmering in the light and making Scott’s eyes go round. Isaac leaned forward interestedly and held one of the rings up. Upon closer inspection, Stiles picked a favourite but refrained from telling Scott, since he didn’t want to compromise his decision.

After a minute, though, it became clear that Scott didn’t have a clue what he wanted and Isaac and Stiles gladly jumped in to help. They were here for a reason after all– even if it was just to prevent Allison from having to drive back here and pick out something she liked better.

“I’d take the oval shaped one, it’s classy, not too sparkly and she likes silver.”

“The rectangle stone is pretty,” Isaac chimed in and Stiles had to give it to him: it was indeed quite pretty.

“What do you think?” Scott asked the lady, who had warmed up to them over the last thirty minutes.

“It really depends on your girlfriend and her taste. If you could tell me something about her, I could narrow it down?” Stiles smiled when Scott grinned at Isaac, obviously not having detected a lie.

The lady really wanted to be helpful.

“She’s a huntress, her favourite colour is purple and blue tones. She likes dresses but also combat boots and leather jackets, it’s like a mix, you know? I can show you a photo if you want?” the lady nodded, a bit overwhelmed with the amount of information Scott was bombarding her with.

“Does she wear jewellery?”

“Yes, I bought her a bracelet, a silver one and she wears it all the time. She doesn’t like earrings because they get caught in her hair.”

“How about rings? Can you tell me if she prefers silver or gold?”

“Silver.”

“Did she have a particular shape she often wears? Are her fingers long or short?” Scott showed her a photo of Allison’s hand, the one where she had the bracelet on, and rambled on about that day and how she had wanted to take a photo to always remember when he had gifted her the jewellery.

“I think I have something that would be perfect for her,” with that, the lady disappeared again. She returned shortly after, holding a ring box and putting a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

She handed Scott the box, her eyes tracking every movement as if even she wanted him to like it. There was not a doubt in Stiles’ mind that this was the right fit once Scott opened the box and looked at it.

“How much?”

“It’s just in your price range,” the lady said and watched Scott grab for his wallet.

Stiles and Isaac shared a smile at their friend’s obvious excitement. While Scott paid, Isaac took the box from him and peaked inside. The first thing Stiles noticed was the delicate silver band that circled the finger like a tiny arrow, ending in a pale blue and purple coloured crystal. The cut was a trillion and Stiles suddenly felt reminded of Derek’s tattoo. He could imagine it on Allison’s finger, glowing in tandem with her eyes and felt his throat clog up.

“It’s- it’s beautiful,” he croaked out and saw Isaac dab at his eyes.

“Perfect,” the curly haired wolf mumbled, obviously having come to the same conclusion as Stiles had.

“It’s like if Allison was a ring, this one would be her,” Stiles concluded.

“The cut, the arrow on the band…” It meant more than just an engagement to all three of them, the pack, the core of Allison herself­– meaning her arrow– so strongly resembled in every aspect of the ring.

“I’m glad you like it,” the lady ripped them out of their shared moment. Scott– undoubtedly misty eyed– kept his gaze locked on the box in his hands while Stiles looked around.

A sudden tinge of sadness fluttered in his stomach that he tried to ignore desperately. He should be happy. But the fact remained that Stiles wished himself in Scott’s place. He had had one decent relationship, short as it was, and wasn’t even close to marrying. But seeing Scott carefully chose a ring, with Isaac’s input, opened the floodgates in his brain and every self-deprecating thought poured out all at once.

He stepped outside, needing some air and saw himself in the reflection of the window. It clicked then. He had nothing. His relationship with Derek was, at best, at the friend stage, he wasn’t any closer to settling down than he had been three years ago.

His best friend was going to marry the love of his life– that Allison would say yes was obvious– Erica and Boyd were going strong, even Jackson and Lydia were back together and happy for once. That left Isaac, but Stiles had the strong feeling that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, at least not at the moment, and was quite content with how things were.

Thankfully, Isaac pulled on his sleeve to get his attention not long after and they walked out. Scott beamed the whole way home, so much so, that Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if his face got stuck this way.

Not that he would mind, Scott’s smile was one of the most beautiful things in the world– only trumped by Derek’s.

* * *

He walked into his house to find the light on and a slightly disgruntled Derek. He had on an apron, the kitchen was a complete mess, splashes of some brown, undistinguishable fluid dropping down from Stiles’ counter. He reigned in the laugh that threatened to escape and instead addressed Derek, who startled more than a werewolf with enhanced senses should.

“What are you doing?”

Derek snarled, then stared accusingly at the bowl in his hands: “I’m cooking.”

Stiles’ sarcastic remark died in his throat. Of all the things, this hadn’t been the answer he had expected: “You’re cooking?”

“Yes.” Derek slammed the bowl down so hard that its contents were in danger of spilling over.

“Why?” Seriously. Why was he cooking in Stiles’ kitchen of all places? What was going on in here? Was Stiles having an outer-body-experience?

“Thought you’d be hungry when you came home.”

Wait. _What?_

“You thought I’d be hungry when I came home?”

Derek had obviously reached his limit since he bit out: “Can you stop parroting me?”

“If you start making sense…”

“What’s so hard to understand? I wanted to make you dinner, that’s it. It’s not a big deal.” And now Stiles’ was just getting pissed off.

“Sorry for being a bit confused when I walk in here to find you in my kitchen looking like you bathed in pancake better and decided to smear it all over the furniture!” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, but, to play devil’s advocate and because Stiles had had a long day, Derek really wasn’t making any sense.

A flash of something crossed Derek’s face but it had gone before Stiles could decipher it.

“Sorry,” the wolf suddenly caved.

“I’m just so…” he paused, turned the though over and settled on “frustrated.”

“I can see that.” Stiles walked up to him, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows.

“Let me help you, hm?” He reached for the spatula but Derek quickly backed away with it, holding it against his chest and not realising that he smeared even more batter onto his chest. It looked so adorable that Stiles bit his lip to refrain from saying so out loud. He was sure Derek wouldn’t appreciate being called anything but badass.

“That’s not-“ he tried to protest but in the end obviously realised that he didn’t stand a chance in that particular argument.

“That’s not how this was supposed to go…”

“Is that why you eat out or order in all the time?” Stiles was genuinely curious if Derek had just mucked up this once or if he truly didn’t know how to cook.

“No- I usually can manage a decent pasta but…”

“But not today,” Stiles finished the thought. He let the matter slide all together, noticing how distressed Derek looked and for the fact that he had had bad days too where not even the omelette would taste right. 

Unsurprisingly, the pancakes came out fine once Stiles had taken over. Derek scowled at them the entire time as if they had personally offended him.

“Which one did he pick out?” Derek asked around a mouthful of food. Stiles spluttered, coughed because he got a bite into the wrong pipe and felt heat rise to his face.

“I- I don’t know what-“

Derek waved it off: “You can stop pretending you don’t know. I know you went ring shopping with Scott and Isaac.”

“How? I know for a fact that Scott didn’t tell you!”

“No, but Isaac did.” He grinned and it made his eyes sparkle– and Stiles was about to die. He could barely handle soft Derek, how was he supposed to survive mischievous Derek?

“So, which one?” Yep. This was gonna be the end of him. He needed to tell Scott what to write down on his tombstone because the heat Derek was radiating was truly unfair.

He huffed: “Alright. Fine!” and pulled out his phone.

“That’s-“ The mood around them changed when Derek glanced at the photo. His voice clogged up and Stiles couldn’t blame him.

“It’s perfect.” Derek decided to go with “She’ll like it.”

Stiles couldn’t agree more.

“When is he going to do it?”

“Ah, did Isaac not blab about that too?” Derek raised an eyebrow but shook his head.

“That’s too bad.” Stiles said, and he meant it because-

“You don’t know either,” the glee in Derek’s tone was entirely inappropriate. One shouldn’t bask in what Stiles always used a German expression for: schadenfreude.

“Shut it! Maybe he hasn’t picked out a date yet…” Stiles admitted.

“Or maybe he just didn’t tell you.” The jab was light-hearted and Stiles took it as such but he still shoved Derek with his hand for the cheek.

The evening ended with them cuddling on the couch, even if Derek refused to admit to it when Stiles mentioned that was what they were doing.

“It’s not cuddling. I’m just-“

“You’re just what? Trying to keep warm because wolves run cold naturally? Giving my shoulders a medical exam?”

“No…” Derek also denied the sulking. Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled him a little closer, delighted when he went without objection.

“I’m really tired,” the wolf said around a yawn. Stiles’ heart may have skipped a beat.

“I can turn the TV off…” not that there was anything interesting on anyway. But he really didn’t want to move away from the safety of Derek’s arms.

“No- I…” he trailed off, Stiles felt Derek’s arms tightened minutely “Can you just stay here?” The request was mumbled quietly into Stiles’ ear, breath tickling the skin there. Stiles flushed hot but managed to nod his agreement.

To settle back into his comfortable position with Derek plastered to his side was harder than he’d like to admit. Suddenly quite aware of Derek’s body against him, the way he could feel his heart beat steadily and his hands around Stiles’ ribs.

“Are you comfortable like this? I can move.” If he would just stop breathing against Stiles’ neck…

Stiles squeaked out: “No, I’m good.” It was only half a lie and Derek didn’t call him out on it. He desperately tried to think about anything but the way Derek’s hands felt on his body. 

“You seem tense,” there was more than a smile in Derek’s voice. Stiles wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he couldn’t help how breathy he sounded.

“Don’t apologise.” The blanket rustled and Derek leaned in closer.

“I just want you to relax.”

If Derek was aware what he was doing to Stiles, he was being deliberately cruel. The implication of their position alone had Stiles’ skin burning with desire.

Tentative fingers trailed down Stiles’ arms under the blanket. He shivered.

“I could…” But then Derek’s lips found Stiles’ neck and he stopped talking. His breath ghosted over the sensitive skin there. Stiles was tense in Derek’s grip, trying desperately to keep from pressing himself against Derek. Suddenly, something wet traced the vein directly under his ear, making him gasp when he realised it was Derek’s tongue.

“I like your neck,” Derek whispered, voice dark and full of gravel. “All long and pale…” Stiles was holding onto his sanity by a strand.

“Derek-“

“Shshsh…”

He needed- _fuck_ , he didn’t know what he needed. More? Less? For Derek to never stop? For him to move his damn hands? To push him down and kiss him senseless?

Stiles reached out then, searched for Derek’s hand and pulled it up, up, up until it circled his throat. The wolf groaned softly behind him, pressing closer. His hand spasmed where it lay against Stiles’ skin, almost cutting the airflow but not really. Stiles turned his head and found Derek already staring at him. He glanced from Derek’s eyes, almost completely dark, to his lips that were parted invitingly.

Derek leaned in-

“Stiles?” the main light was suddenly switched on. They scrambled away from each other as if electrocuted.

Stiles was sure his face was the colour of an overripe tomato. He felt so exposed and vulnerable that he didn’t even want to look at Derek, afraid of what he would see there.

“Stiles, where- ah there you are.” his father seemed in a good mood and not the least bit put off by finding them in a compromising position. Or maybe, Stiles thought, they’d been fast enough for him not to catch it.

“Good evening, Derek.” The wolf greeted back, but his voice was off and his face flushed. Stiles couldn’t blame the man. He felt quite hot himself.

“You have any leftovers?” he was on his way into the kitchen and Derek looked at Stiles darkly so the only logical thing to do was jump up from the couch and follow his Dad.

Derek left not five minutes after, excusing himself.

Stiles missed the disappointed expression on Derek’s face when he walked out of the door.

* * *

A day and some emotional rollercoasters later, Stiles awoke to the sound of someone knocking his door down. He stumbled out of bed, nearly tripped over the stairs and ripped the door open to find Scott beaming at him.

“I need your help and you’re not allowed to say no!”

After that wake-up call, Stiles found himself pressed into a booth with the whole pack, except for Allison. Every doubt about what was going on flew right out of the window.

Jackson’s good mood was obviously still in bed. “Seriously, McCall,” he said “what am I even doing here? I’m not a wedding planner.”

“Oh shush,” Lydia elbowed him lightly “Don’t act like you’re not invested at this point.”

Jackson grumbled something incomprehensible but otherwise didn’t deny it.

“I don’t need a wedding planner. What I need is the proposal to be perfect.” There was an underlying sharpness to his voice that spoke of urgency and had them all sit up a bit straighter.

“Have you already got an idea?” Erica wanted to know, nearly bouncing in her seat.

“I thought I could take her out to dinner and do it there? Like in the movies?” The snort came from Lydia and, while it may have surprised Scott, it certainly didn’t surprise anyone else.

“Did you hit your head somewhere? Or do you seriously mean to tell me that you don’t have a clue what your soon-to-be fiancé likes?” Scott shrunk away from her and had the decency to look stricken.

“That’s why I brought you here, didn’t I? I have no idea how to do this right and that was the only thing that didn’t sound too cheesy…” he muttered, dejectedly. Lydia, though, all determination and smart input, leaned over and patted his arm.

“Don’t worry. Luckily for you the girl in question happens to be my best friend and I know her well enough to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”

And then Lydia launched into an elaborate plan that left not only Scott but everyone else at the table with a headache.

* * *

He was standing outside, jacket pulled over his head to protect him against the heavily pouring rain. He had forgotten his mobile at home, but at least knew the numbers of the pack by heart, had made a point, actually, to learn them. Now, he was using one of the emergency phones at the side of the road, getting drenched in the process. His car wouldn’t start, Derek wasn’t picking up his phone and Stiles was running out of options.

Scott was having a date with Allison’s family, or what was left of it. He dialled Isaac’s number and sighed in relief when the pup replied.

“Stiles? Stiles, is everything alright?”

“Can you come and get me?” The silence that followed the question was deafening. Then, after what felt like 10 minutes, Isaac said: “I’m not in town. It’d take me an hour. I’m really sorry.” It felt like a pang in his heart.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, trying not to sound as lonely as he felt “I’ll get a ride from someone else. Bye.” He hung up without waiting for Isaac’s reply.

Two lights appeared then, like beacons of hope in the darkness, just before he could make it back to the safety of Roscoe. A car screeched to a halt, the driver having obviously seen him. Stiles watched the driver’s door open and a pair of small feet jump out under an umbrella.

A girl came closer, or young woman really, seeing as she had a permit and all, and she asked if he was alright while holding the umbrella over him.

“I saw you standing there and you looked so sad, I had to stop and see if you needed help,” her voice was sweet and kind and gentle and Stiles revelled in it. Maybe he should be more suspicious of a stranger stopping for him but what could she really do to him?

“ _Are_ you alright?” She asked again and this time, Stiles broke down. Everything came crashing in all at once.

Scott.

Allison.

The proposal.

Isaac having no time for him.

Derek not picking up.

Lucas breaking up with him.

His relationship with Derek that still hadn’t evolved.

The fact that he didn’t feel loved, the permanent third wheel in every conversation.

How Lydia gotten what she wanted even though she had cheated.

How Erica and Boyd and Lydia and Jackson had each other.

How Scott and Allison were happy.

And he had nothing. Instead of driving home and getting kissed, he was stuck on the road with a broken-down car, for which he had not enough money to fix. How everything always seemed to go wrong for him no matter how hard he tried when other people didn’t put in half the effort he did and still got rewarded.

He didn’t say any of that but his face must have spoken for him anyway, since the girl pulled him into a tight hug. It felt good, being held like this. For a while. Then, exhaustion swept in, making him lean against this stranger and he recoiled.

Why was he doing this? He should be more careful, should know better. This wasn’t a friend, this wasn’t pack. He couldn’t let his guard down like that.

“Why did you do that?” he asked against the burn in his throat, the hole in his stomach as if he hadn’t leaned into it. But he felt desperate to find out if he was wrong, to get confirmation that she’d just been a friendly stranger and not a crazy stalker or other supernatural being that had just so disappeared on the road where he had stranded.

His instinct, that he had somehow managed to mute until he had shoved her away, was going off even more so than usual. He felt it though, deep inside, and there was nothing to be done about it, even against the pain and exhausting still overwhelming him.

Something was off.

“Sorry,” she said around a tiny smile, her voice almost incomprehensible against the rain “You just looked like you needed a hug.”

She shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. For just a moment, he allowed himself to relax slightly, satisfied with the answer. It sounded like she was just a nice person, nothing to worry about. But the voices in his head were not having it. He tried to write it off as him being paranoid but then his eyes caught up to his brain.

The lights of her SUV hit something shiny and Stiles froze. His gaze was glued to her hand, to her finger, where two rings caught the headlights with her every move.

No.

Oh no, no, no, no.

_Fuck!_

“Oh, that’s right. I should have remembered that you’d know I’d be wearing one. Or two, in my case.” The smile that graced her lips now didn’t even closely resemble the one before. Her mouth had turned into a red grimace, showing teeth that were rotten.

Stiles fumbled for the knife in his pockets but before his fingers could even close around the handle, she stopped him with a hand on his arm that was colder than ice.

“I really wouldn’t recommend it. You see, you have been having a rather trying evening. And feasting from you did leave you quite exhausted, Dear.” She pushed against his chest and he stumbled back.

“It was a pleasure, do keep that in mind. Such a treat you were.” With that, she re-entered the SUV and drove off before Stiles could comprehend what had happened.

She nearly ran him over while turning her car, laughing manically behind the wheel. He jumped to the side, barely in time, sprinted back to the phone.

Frantically, he dialled the first number that came to his mind, hoping against all hope that the outcome would somehow be different to the first time he had tried to reach him.

After two rings, finally, Derek picked up. Stiles felt the tears already starting to flow, burning on his face.

“Derek! I need you to pick me up! Please, pick me up! The Jeep broke down and-“

Derek interrupted him, voice firm but gentle: “Stiles- I slow down, please.”

“I’m just outside Beacon Hills, I can’t reach anyone. You need to come get me.” He wasn’t even embarrassed to sound this desperate.

“Stay put, alright? Get in the Jeep and stay there!”

“I can’t- I need- I need to talk to you!” He was starting to get hysterical. Derek needed to hurry, he needed to get here.

“Where’s your phone? I didn’t pick up the first time because I didn’t recognise this number!”

“I don’t know- I left it at home! Isaac’s out of town! I can’t-“

“Stiles, breathe!” Derek was in the car, Stiles hear the door close.

“Are you there? Stiles?”

“Sorry- I just- I really need you right now!”

“I’m on my way. Just tell me what happened!” There was urgency to the way he emphasised his words, like it truly mattered to him. Like he cared. Stiles felt his throat close up.

“I- the Jeep,” he took a deep breath, tried again “The Jeep broke down and then I couldn’t reach anyone and I’m- I’ve got nothing and Scott’s proposing and then this girl came here and I thought, I shouldn’t talk to her but then she hugged me and she was so nice but-“ he couldn’t breathe- _fuck!-_ he couldn’t breathe.

“But what?” Stiles could make out Derek cursing, even though the thunder over his head was deafening.

“Envy. She was Envy!” he yelled into the receiver, suddenly so angry with himself. He wanted to hit something, to cry, to just get away form here. Something needed to work out, just this once, just one small thing.

He had been so stupid.

He shouldn’t have trusted a stranger.

“I shouldn’t have hugged her- fuck, Derek! It was her, I saw- I saw the ring!” he gasped for breath, his lungs wouldn’t expand.

“I can’t be infected! I’m not envious! I swear, I’m not! I was just sad because Scott is going to propose and I don’t have anyone and you’ve got all these powers and I’m just human! This can’t be happening! What if I die? What if I kill someone because I get jealous! I’m not a jealous person! I don’t mean to be this way!”

His vision blurred, black spots swimming before his eyes.

“Stiles? Stiles!” Derek’s voice sounded far away, too far for Stiles to grasp anymore. He staggered where he stood, desperately trying to keep himself upright against the phone. The rain soaking his clothes didn’t register, the cold engulfing him completely forgotten.

“Stiles- I’m almost there! Please, answer me! Stiles? Stiles, come on!” But Stiles didn’t have the strength to answer. He fell to his knees. His legs, his whole body felt numb. Once more, he tried to breathe in, to feel any sensation whatsoever.

The ground came closer too fast for him to reach out his hands and catch himself. He hit the road with a thud, his eyelids fluttered.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

He came to when someone shook his shoulders roughly. The rain must have stopped some time ago because when Derek’s face came into focus his hair wasn’t dripping. Stiles’ head was still spinning so when he tried to sit up, he had to fight the urge to puke.

“Slowly, alright?” Strong hands steadied him until he was in a sitting position. His back was being held by Derek’s leg, which he had propped up on the ground. Stiles had half a mind to protest, since Derek’s clothes would be getting wet but Derek shushed him.

“Don’t talk, just breathe.” But the panic had subsided and had left him with nothing but numbness.

He didn’t know how long it took for him to breathe somewhat regularly or for him to finally manage to stand up without falling over. On wobbly knees, he made it to the Camaro, Derek had pushed the Jeep to the side of the road so that no one would crash into it.

“I’ll get it tomorrow, promise,” he said when he saw Stiles eyeing Roscoe critically. Stiles climbed into the passenger seat, his fingers trembled when he tried to close the seat belt. He still hadn’t spoken to Derek, too ashamed of his own stupidity, too angry with the world for having put him in this situation.

If at least something sometimes had turned out alright for him, this wouldn’t have happened.

Was this really too much to ask?

“Not one of the others saw their demon coming, why would you?” Derek asked softly once they had started driving. Stiles simply shrugged. It didn’t matter to him what the others did or did not do, fact of the matter was that he had failed.

That he was the smart one, that he should have been better, faster, cleverer was not the answer Derek would accept. But it was the only correct one and Stiles knew it.

“There is nothing to blame you for, okay? You were in a bad situation and needed help. You couldn’t have known.” Stiles suppressed the humourless laugh. Trust Derek to fault everyone and everything else when it came to people that weren’t Derek himself.

With a low voice, Stiles said: “Can you stop talking?”

He saw Derek’s jaw clench but didn’t care. Whatever the Alpha had to say, it didn’t change anything. He just wanted to close his door behind him and shut out the world.

They reached his house not long after, a tense silence filling the car before Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Stiles-“ Derek’s arm held him back, his face open and worried. And Stiles really wasn’t having it.

“Yeah no, sorry. Thanks for the ride.” He was out of the car and walking up the steps to his room before Derek could get another word in. All the while, his thoughts kept racing. None of this should have happened.

This was all his fault. Other people would die, he just knew it, because he hadn’t realised it was Envy right in front of him.

Falling asleep wasn’t easy. Her face, her touch haunted him. His dreams were filled with dread that he would wake up by news of another body, another death.

* * *

As it turned out, while this particular nightmare didn’t become reality quite this early, another one decided to invade his life, in the form of Derek Hale nearly knocking his door down. If Stiles thought _he_ was angry, it was nothing to Derek’s bad mood, apparently.

Before he even had the chance to explain himself, apologise and bid the Alpha a good day, he was shoved inside and the door was slammed shut.

“I don’t want to hear one word out of your mouth before I’m done, so sit down and listen!” Stiles, too surprised to protest much, let himself be manhandled to the couch.

“You are one of the most stupid people I know,” is what Derek, for some hurtful reason, decided to start with. And if that wasn’t horrible enough, he even went on: “I have no idea what’s gotten into you but if you think for one second this- any of this- was your fault then I’m seriously considering your IQ!”

The Alpha was staring at Stiles with fiery eyes, narrowed to slits of green with red seeping through every now and then.

“Do you really not have any idea how much they think of you? How smart you are? How we wouldn’t last a day without you?”

Stiles had tried to answer some of the questions but Derek held up a claw in front of his face to silence him.

“No! You’re not allowed to speak until I’m done!” Once he had Stiles’ attention back on him, he went on.

“They rely on you so much! You’re always their first call when they need help! And I know you don’t like being the human in the group, but did you ever pause to think about how that makes you special? Do you know what any of us would give for the opportunity to _just_ be human? To not be hunted and bound to the whims of the moon? And you- you wear your humanity on your sleeve like it’s something dirty, like you’re weak when you’re so clearly not! Because you’re not just a human, Stiles, you’re you! And if I were you, I’d hide at home and not set foot outside but you don’t do that.”

“Derek-“ Stiles needed him to stop talking like this. He couldn’t take it.

“Shut it!” Derek snapped “You run in head first with nothing but your stupid nerve! And I don’t get how you can be so brave when all you’ve ever got was the short end of the deal! You ran after Scott for all eternity and still managed to come out ahead with your head still on your shoulders and your humanity intact! That’s not because you’re invincible, it’s not because you hid like a coward! It’s because you’re smart and kind and a fucking idiot because the only one who doesn’t see all of this is you! And I’m so tired of you putting all the blame on yourself because you had one moment where you fucked up!”

He breathed in as if to centre himself “And I know you’ve joked about, but I’m the one who’s jealous of you! Yes, there, I said it and you can revel in it! You were right, I’m fucking jealous of you!”

“Why?” Stiles yelled, just as angry, just as fed up. He was done with being silent.

“No, seriously! Your whole shebang is nice and all but come on: the Big Bad Alpha is jealous of the lanky little human? Fuck off!”

Derek scoffed “If you’d take a minute before you spoke, you’d maybe, just maybe, realise that we- the pack and I- all think the same about you! You’re not useless! You have nothing to be jealous of!”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Then why’d she touch you? Why pick you?”

“I-“

“No! She touched you because it’s the only sin you’re capable of. Not because you’re a bad person or whatever reason you’ve come up with in your head. But because you don’t see your own worth! You never have! Not once since I yelled at you in the woods to get off my damn property did you think to yourself that you did well, that you are worth something more than being shoved aside. You said it yourself: you’re jealous of them because they have what you don’t!”

Something snapped inside of Stiles then. Something that needed to be let out. He balled his fists and started yelling with all he had:

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I’m fucking jealous! Of course, I am! Have you looked at me? Scott’s got the powers and the girl and the life he wanted! Lydia got her internship and her boyfriend even though she cheated! Erica got Boyd after trying to fuck half the city! And you-“ he laughed without humour “Don’t even get me started on you! You with all your stupid muscle and eyes and powers and super healing and the hair! Fuck! I can’t compete with that! With any of that!”

Derek bellowed: “Well, you don’t need to!” he threw his arms up “You don’t need to! Do you know what I’d do for the love they have for you? Don’t you get that? I’m their Alpha and they still prefer you over me! Don’t you think I know what that feels like? I would give everything to have that!”

Stiles stared at him suddenly filled with dread. Realisation dawned on him and made him sit silently, too shocked to react. Something in Derek’s words had finally ticked him off. And now, about a million candles simultaneously shed light to the darkness that had kept Stiles’ brain under lock and key.

Without raising his voice again, he whispered: “You must have touched her too! Fuck! Derek, why didn’t you tell me?”

Derek, who, apparently, was not concerned in the slightest, waved him off: “I’ve been in the loft since I brought you here! Don’t be stupid!”

But Stiles had caught onto something and now the wheels in his brain were turning rapidly. Derek hadn’t been touched but he was still feeling jealous. And if he thought about it, then something else registered just as clearly. Derek had been behaving odd for a long time, really.

“Derek-“

“What?”

“Derek, you’re affected too.”

“I just told you-“

“No!” his heart was racing in his chest. It made Derek realise that he was being serious. He suddenly had the Alpha’s full attention.

“Not like us! You weren’t touched by them! You said it yourself, you didn’t leave the loft!”

“So, what? Last time I checked, they needed to touch the people to infect them.”

“But you’re different! Derek- don’t you see it? Don’t you see?” he was met with a clueless look that told Stiles all he needed to know about Derek’s current state of mind, which was, above all, confused.

“Don’t you remember what Lust said? That she heard about you, that you were made for this…” Derek nodded, still not convinced.

“You are an Alpha! Derek you are our Alpha. That’s what she meant!”

“I don’t- what does that have to do with anything?”

“The pack bond! It circles back to you! You can feel us- every one of us! So, if, say- hypothetically- Isaac got hurt, you’d feel it, right? You’d feel it as if it were your own pain?”

An emotion lit up in Derek’s eyes then, like fire barely contained by the green orbs that started to transform into red the longer he stared at Stiles.

“Yes-“ he croaked out “So, if you’re infected, I’d feel it too because you’re in my pack. Because we’re close!”

“You were hungry when Isaac met Gluttony, you didn’t drive to Boyd’s yourself when he was home. You’re jealous of me…” he left the sentence hanging.

Derek breathed out, cursed a little.

“What do we do now?”

Rare as it was, Stiles didn’t have an answer to that question. He nibbled on his nail, the argument, the accusations pushed to the back of his mind.

“We need to keep a clear head. If you’re right and it’s affecting me too when one of you gets touched then I need to watch out.”

Tension filled silence spread between them, where neither wanted to address what the other had just confessed to. After what felt like eternity, Derek made an aborted movement as if he wanted to stand up from the couch but had thought better of it.

“I meant it, you know?”

“What?”

“Everything.” Stiles contemplated it, threw it around in his head. And while Derek looked earnestly at him, he still had that voice in his head that continuously nagged him.

“I just-“

But, as it turned out, Stiles didn’t even have to finish the sentence because Derek had already understood.

“You just don’t believe it…”

“Derek-“

“I think, I’m going to go now. If after all I said you still don’t believe me…” he ruffled his hair “Then there’s nothing I can do…”

The door closed behind him without another word. The thoughts in Stiles’ head wouldn’t settle. He wished nothing more than to be able to believe Derek but he just couldn’t. Once more he was bombarded with images of the pack in various states of happy. He was never the reason, never the source. And he didn’t know whether Envy had just enhanced those feelings or if this was his own subconscious’ doing.

A voice whispered to him, sounding much like Lydia, telling him to focus on the positive, to get a grip and stop berating himself but it was drowned out by all the people rejecting him, accusing him, writing him off as Scott’s sidekick. He curled into a ball on the couch, pressed a pillow over his head so that the whispers would stop.

He needed this to stop.

Or he was going crazy.

_Just make it stop!_

* * *

Stiles woke up at two in the morning, still on the couch and staring with bleary eyes at the screen of his phone. After realising that he needed to drag himself up the stairs with all this emotional baggage on his shoulders that weighed him down. He still managed to reach his bed and collapsed on it, burying his head in the pillow.

Bits and pieces of the last days came back like a “previously on”, almost as if they were mocking him for the pain blossoming in his chest.

Maybe it sounded childish but at this moment he just wanted his dad to come in and hug him, tell him it would all be alright once he woke up in the morning.

But his dad was at work and Derek had walked out and he didn’t want to ruin Scott’s night and Jackson wouldn’t understand. There was nobody he could call. He was all alone.

His heart pounded in his chest while he tried biting down on his lips to stop the tears pooling in his eyes from flowing. In the morning, he kept telling himself, in the morning everything will look better. It was a lie that he didn’t believe but he kept repeating it in his head like a mantra.

Something to hold onto.

* * *

_Envy made her way into the town more slowly than any of the others. She didn’t come in with her guns blazing and wreaking chaos. But when she appeared, she appeared with all her arsenal of demonic powers by her side._

_It started by Erica going on a run in the preserve. She witnessed a pair of siblings fighting. What tipped her off though, was their words: “I’m so sick and tired of you always getting what you want!”_

_The girl laughed at the boy and shrugged him off._

_“The golden child, the princess, who can do no wrong in mom’s eyes. But she doesn’t know you like I do! She doesn’t know what a slut you are, fucking your teacher to get a good grade. It’s because you don’t have a brain in you godamn head that’s way too pretty for your own good!”_

_The girl didn’t seem bothered by her brother’s theatrics and continued to pick up flowers on the way. Erica had a feeling in her gut to keep following them, just in case._

_“If that’s what you need to tell yourself…”_

_“You are such a spoilt brat!”_

_“Sorry,” she smiled condescendingly “Not my fault everyone likes me better.” Erica almost felt bed for the guy, even if she didn’t condone his choice of words._

_“You don’t deserve to be liked! You don’t deserve anything!” he yelled at her, fists balled._

_“And yet, I still have everything you wanted while you get to work at a diner because you didn’t make it into college.”_

_Erica had time to suck in a breath of air before the boy launched himself at his sister. She didn’t see him coming, stumbled back from where he had hit her. He didn’t even hesitate, grabbed a rock from the ground and smashed her head in._

_Erica was frozen in place behind a tree, staring with uncomprehending eyes at the scene before her._

_“Who’s got everything now, bitch!” The boy kicked his sister in the back a few times before Erica could react. She grabbed him around the middle and pulled him away._

_“Let go! What the fuck! You freak, let me go!” he kicked and pushed all the way to her car where she shoved him down and locked the doors._

_“How could you do that?” She asked. Her brain was running a mile per minute, trying to make sense of what she had seen. The boy though stared at her, almost smug and shrugged his shoulders._

_“I wanted to have something too…”_

_“And what do you have, hm? What do you have beside a dead sister?” A change passed over his face that made a cold liquid, like ice, trickle into her stomach._

_“I don’t have a dead sister! What are you talking about?” He rattled on the door handle but it didn’t give._

_“Let me out of the car you freak! Fuck!”_

_“You just bashed her head in,” Erica reiterated, cataloguing each tick of a muscle in his jaw._

_“I just wanted her to stop talking like that! I didn’t even scratch her!”_

_Something wasn’t right here. The boy must be out of his mind, she thought. Or he couldn’t comprehend what he had done and was trying to lie to himself._

_But his eyes told a different story. And it clicked._

_“What did you do then? How do you recall it?”_

_“I- I don’t- can I just go, please? I want to apologise to her, see if she’s alright…” he looked around frantically to where they had walked out of the woods._

_“Can you tell me your name?”_

_“James.”_

_Erica nodded, to reassure him he was doing well “James-“ he looked up but didn’t hold eye contact, his gaze constantly switching from the window to the door handle and back to her._

_“Tell me what happened?”_

_“We fought. We always fight ‘cause she got into uni and I didn’t even though I deserved it more. She just got good grades because she was sleeping with her professor. And now I’m washing the dishes in the diner and she’s throwing out money we don’t have.”_

_He paused, breathing hard against a lump in his throat that was obvious in his voice._

_“I wanted her to shut up! Just so she’d stop rubbing it in, you know? She’s always rubbing it in…”_

_James scratched his head, then continued “So, I hit her with the rock. Just a bit, so, that she’d know what I feel like, how it hurts me when she says stuff like that.”_

_His speech had slowed down considerably the longer he talked. And then his eyes suddenly held a level of clarity they hadn’t had before, like a veil being lifted from them. A look of understanding crossed his face._

_It broke Erica’s heart to see realisation dawn._

* * *

Two more cases came in, each more horrifying than the last and Stiles refused to set foot outside, convinced that this was all his fault and that he was only going to make it worse if he actually acted instead of moping. Scott and Isaac came by twice, Jackson even said hello and quickly left after seeing Stiles so broken down to return with ice cream and beer to cheer him up. Erica and Boyd called but Stiles just told them he was fine.

Derek had instructed Erica– and everybody else– not to mention the murder she had witnessed as to not stress Stiles any further, without telling them the reason why he was so stressed in the first place. The tension surrounding him was palpable through the pack bond and no one knew how to remedy the situation. They needed Stiles to snap out of whatever reverie he was in, needed their friend back as fast as possible because life without his constant smart remarks wasn’t nearly as nice as they thought it would be.

Only when his father told him– over dinner and almost in frustrated tears– about two friends ganging up on the third and killing him in the process because he had gotten a new car for his birthday, did Stiles throw on a jacket and leave the house. He felt wobbly on his knees and unsure in his step when but he knocked on the door to Derek’s loft nonetheless.

Unfortunately, his timing was even more off than usual. He crashed what was Lydia explaining her research that was, not only, meticulously ordered but also more detailed than his had been on the subject. In the matter of two days she had found out what had escaped his grasp for the whole time the sins had been running around town.

A part of him urged him to leave right then, not even listen to what Lydia had to say and lock himself back into his room.

Isaac, kind and gentle Isaac, pressed him back down and shot him a reassuring smile, then he leaned in and whispered, well aware that every wolf in the room would hear: “She’s just helping out. You’re still our top research guy. She’s not replacing you.”

It worked for a minute, calming him and pressing down the feeling of not being good enough. But once Lydia was half way through her speech Stiles was vibrating in his seat. This wasn’t fair. He had searched every source he had had high and low and still hadn’t managed to work out what was going on.

How did she whip that up? Why did everything always come so easy to her?

Fuck. This just wasn’t fair. If she was so smart then she could do the research in the future. She was obviously better at it than him anyway.

Lydia opened with: “I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something we didn’t know.”

Stiles suppressed the sigh that had bubbled up in his throat. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? Were the dramatics really necessary. He was fed up already. 

“I stumbled across this really interesting book after Stiles helped me with my thesis,” she had the decency to sound thankful but it did nothing to lift Stiles’ mood. It bugged him she had found the information and not he himself, folklore was after all _his_ field of expertise and it had been one of the books _he_ had recommended.

“I couldn’t get my head around it, why they were doing this, you know? Sure, they’re demons and wreaking havoc is their favourite activity but they were too invested in it for my taste. So, I dug deeper and guess what I found.”

Stiles wasn’t particularly in the mood for guessing and just rolled his eyes. The scowl Derek shot his way was ignored, even though his stomach felt queasy at having the Alpha look at him that way.

“They’re feeding on the people they touch. So, the more someone sins, the more they can eat. It’s why Gluttony isn’t as dangerous as Wrath, because people don’t feel as bad after eating a cake as they do after hating someone’s guts.”

He had a hard time focussing, feeling more and more irritated the longer she continued talking. Isaac scooted closer and tried to snuggle him but he didn’t have the patience for it. Although the hurt expression on the pup’s face did make him pause for a minute.

“But that’s not all. What I could gather from the sources, they also get some kind of reward from their boss if they bring him souls. The more souls, the better.”

“Their boss?” Scott’s eyes were growing and already as wide as saucers the longer Lydia was talking.

“What kind of boss does a demon have?” Erica sounded as if even the idea was funny, but judging by everyone else’s expression, they didn’t see the humour in it.

Boyd mumbled: “Don’t tell me we have to go up against Satan…” with a sense of frustration in his voice.

“No. Thank God, no.” Lydia said but something in her tone didn’t sit well with Stiles. He managed to push personal feelings aside for a minute and listened closely.

“But it’s close.”

“Spit it out, will you!” Jackson, always with his quick temper, barked out. One glance at him from Lydia and Derek and the wolf shrunk back against the cushion.

“A knight of hell.” Her words had a dramatic effect on the pack. Erica crushed Boyd’s hand in hers, Isaac cowered were he sat and Derek, Stiles noticed, clenched his jaw.

“There isn’t much to say about him really. I didn’t even find out a name, just that he’s the one that released the sins and probably gave the command to do all the things they’ve been up to.”

After some tense silence, Derek spoke up: “Do you know how to kill it?”

“No.”

A sort of resignation settled in the room after that finite answer.

“Let’s tackle that when we get there,” Allison said “At the moment, Envy should be our top priority.”

Stiles flinched when she mentioned the demon, but, to his surprise, nobody called him out on it.

She continued: “I’ve heard about two cases this far-“

“Three.” Stiles interrupted her, not wanting to be the centre of attention but well aware that he needed to speak up in this instance. Even if a thought suddenly dawned on him and he stood up.

“Derek- can I talk to you for a minute?” If someone thought it strange they didn’t say so and Derek followed him out of the room.

When they closed the door to Derek’s bedroom, Stiles realised he had never been so grateful for the soundproof walls.

“You didn’t tell them.” It wasn’t a question, yet Derek still answered.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re hard enough on yourself as it is.” Derek’s tone didn’t leave room for argument and Stiles briefly contemplated when the wolf had been this clipped with him since they had become friends.

“Thanks, I guess…” he wasn’t sure why thanking him was so hard or why every fibre inside him fought back. He turned towards the door then, intending to re-join the pack downstairs, when a hand on his shoulder held him back.

“How are you?”

“Good.” Derek’s lips stretched into a thin line and for a second it looked like he wanted to say something but obviously thought better of it.

While shaking his head, Derek opened the door for Stiles and let him pass through without another word.

* * *

Five more bodies came into the morgue in the following days and Stiles was pacing in his room whenever his thoughts overwhelmed him. He hadn’t talked to any of the pack, not even Derek, and it was slowly eating him up inside.

A small part of him knew that he only needed to reach out and everything would be fine but another, much bigger part, convinced himself that they didn’t want to talk to him. Adding to that was his constant paranoia that everyone knew he was infected and that nobody wanted to confront that and that was the real reason why they were avoiding him.

It was messing with his head so badly that he called every member of the pack at least once, some of them twice, but hung up after the first ring. He didn’t pick up when they called back. He still felt as if Lydia had stolen something from him by doing the research and not telling him about it, so he concocted a plan to one-up her. Even though it was strictly against pack politics to keep information from each other, Stiles threw himself into research. Even if all it did was show them who’s boss.

Also, he justified to himself, Boyd had gone rogue on Sloth too and nobody had minded.

He didn’t know for how long he searched the local security cameras, comparing the photos minutely with the map on his desk. After what felt like the tenth attempt to figure it out, he suddenly noticed a pattern. The bodies drew a circle around the old industrial park, almost like Envy had operated from headquarters. Sloppy mistake, Stiles thought to himself. With red marker he drew the circle, just so he’d have a visual and once more checked the footage from the security cams. At 11pm last night a shadow had passed the camera at the edge of the preserve that Chris had set up on a lamp post. The guy really knew what he was doing.

Stiles didn’t have time to ponder for too long, fed up with the situation and that particular demon and so determined to prove to the pack, and Lydia especially, that they had underestimated him.

A grave error, he’d like to think.

Before leaving, he packed a bag with the hunting knife Chris had gotten him, a bottle full of pepper spray and the gun Derek had given him with a raised eyebrow and a scowl on his face. He would be glad when Stiles told him later what he had used it for. The map on which he had located Envy’s, alleged, whereabouts he stuffed into one of his secret hiding places, having memorised the way he needed to drive already.

He didn’t even consider letting the pack know what he was about to do.

This was his kill, and his alone.

So, instead of calling, he simply drove all the way out to the abandoned warehouse and hoped for the best.

* * *

As it turned out, the best he could hope for was a quick death.

The door hadn’t been locked, which should have sent alarm bells off in Stiles’ head, but he thought nothing of it, seeing as it was an _abandoned_ warehouse. He feels the need to emphasise that.

Once inside he had refrained from using the flashlight, even though he couldn’t see a thing. Silence engulfed him. Combined with the darkness, it made his skin crawl. He kept a tight grip on the handle of the gun, fumbling with the knife in his other. Cautiously, he turned around, hoping against all hope that he’d see a movement in the shadows.

He felt cold and very lonely all of a sudden.

The hairs on his skin were rising up, goose bumps erupted all over his arms. He didn’t know anymore, if the temperature had dropped or if he was just scared. Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, he tried to reason with himself, saying that the warehouse was probably empty anyway, that there was nothing that could go wrong.

And suddenly, lights flashed through the darkness, almost blinding him with their intensity. He barely had time to orient himself before a figure approached him. Falling into battle mode that Jackson and Derek had trained him in, he crouched down, holding the gun expertly in his hands.

“Don’t move!” he bellowed, voice steadier than he felt. The figure didn’t listen, just came closer. Stiles fired two shots that his it in the chest but didn’t even make it stumble. He hesitated, gun raised, when finally, a face came into view.

The floor was pulled out from under his feet. His stomach plummeted. This couldn’t be true.

“Scott? Scotty, what-“ but Scott didn’t wait for him to finish. He felt the claws scratch his skin before taking a step back.

“Scott! What the fuck!” Without looking away from his best friend, he tried to block the blows raining down on him. His back hit something hard behind him.

“Why are you doing this?” He didn’t care that he sounded desperate.

Scott smiled but it held nothing of its usual warmth.

“Because I’m sick of you and your voice. Always talking and going on and on and on about some boring bullshit!” Scott let his head swing around as if to reiterate his words.

“As if you’re so smart,” another voice chimed in. Stiles’ insides froze over after realising it was Lydia.

“You won’t ever compare to me! I’m ten times smarter than you.” He couldn’t let go of the gun but he wanted to so badly. Just so that he could block the words from coming.

“You’re not even hot!” Now Jackson was there, that arrogant grin on his lips that Stiles hated so much because it reminded him of how the Kanima used to be like.

“Look at me. And then look at you. Pathetic,” he spew the words with more venom than his teeth had ever held. Stiles writhed against the wall at his back, trying to break out of the circle they were drawing around him.

“I never liked you. But I needed a way to get to Scott and you were just tagging on like a third wheel.” His voice was nothing like Isaac’s, cold and distant but ringing clear as day in his ears. The blonde wolf joined the others, sneering when Stiles flinched away from him.

“And to think I even thought for one second, you could be anything but a deadweight in the pack,” now Erica had joined them, laughing as if they were all in on a joke he didn’t understand. She threw her hair over her shoulder in a gesture that was all too familiar. Stiles wanted to vanish.

He couldn’t hear this anymore.

Why had he come here? He should have known, should have realised that they didn’t want him, didn’t like him.

“We should have gotten rid of you a long time ago. Maybe let my grandfather do the work,” Allison’s comment cut deeper than Stiles would have thought. Memories threatened to suffocate him, of dark basements and blood. He couldn’t breathe. This was too much. He needed to go, to get out of here.

Boyd appeared then, towering over the others and equally as terrifying.

“She is right, you know? I have often talked to Derek about it, how you bring nothing but trouble.”

The knife clattered to the floor. Stiles pressed his hand to his ear, trying to erase their words with his own. On and on he kept singing to himself, a lullaby his mother had once taught him. But their voices just got louder, their laughter more insistent.

And then there he was. The one person, Stiles feared to hear most of all.

Derek marched out of the shadows and for a second Stiles dared hope he was here to save him. The Alpha opened his mouth, eyes narrowed: “I should have listened when they told me you are not worth it. All the people that could have saved. All the lives that could have been spared.”

Stiles felt tears dropping down on his shirt. His sight was blurry when he turned to Derek, desperate for him to stop talking.

“You said it wasn’t my fault…” He hated sounding so weak, hated having to beg for kindness.

“Of course, it was. All of this is your fault.”

He paused, looking Stiles up and down with disgust in his eyes. 

“Look at you. I understand why you’re jealous, why you want what we have. Because without us, you’re nothing.”

Stiles’ heart throbbed painfully. He shoved at Derek in a vain attempt to hurt the wolf just as much as he was hurting him. The Alpha sneered and drew his hand back.

“You shouldn’t have done that, human!”

Pain. White, hot, searing pain exploded all over his left arm. His instinct was screaming at him to stop the blood flow from where Derek’s claws had cut open the flesh. It burned, made him gasp for air.

By some miracle, he kept hold of the gun in his right, unable to let go even if he wanted to.

Stiles stared at the blood dripping down his arm.

The world stopped.

Something was wrong.

He looked back at Derek, still sporting a grin full of darkness.

Stiles gripped the gun tightly.

Aimed.

**_Shot!_ **

A sound, unlike anything he had ever heard, echoed through the warehouse. And then they were gone. Each and every member of the pack was gone. And before him, with a bullet hole in her chest, stood Envy.

“How?” She shrieked, her figure blurring at the edges.

“How did you break it?”

But Stiles was done talking. He took two steps forward, ready to shoot her again, when she kicked his foot out from underneath him. He fell without being able to catch himself. His arm screamed in protest. He scrambled for the gun but so did Envy.

They reached it simultaneously, one wrong move and it slithered away, to somewhere Stiles couldn’t see. On hands and knees, he crawled to where he had dropped the knife, clutched it tightly in his hand.

Envy was back up on her feet already, landing a kick onto his back. He couldn’t block her, went down like a sack of rice.

A punch to his face had his eye swelling up. His sight was limited now, his leg wouldn’t hold his weight. Still, he stood as tall as he could and approached again.

Just then, a noise to his right distracted both of them for the shortest moment. Derek, with his eyes blazing and his claws ready crouched in the doorway, ready to pounce. Envy hissed in his direction, distracted.

Derek held her attention for but a moment.

It was all Stiles needed.

He rammed the knife into her stomach. She doubled over, clutching at it. Derek came running. Envy dodged his attack, managed to get her claws into Derek’s arm too. The Alpha howled, sounding more angry than hurt and readied himself for another attack.

But Stiles had it under control. He used his bleeding arm to hold her in place. She snarled at him but it came out garbled. Full of hatred he cut off her finger, watching as she turned into her true self.

Ugly. And with a grin on her face that looked like it was being held by strings. Stiles pulled her close, so that she’d hear what he had to say:

“You made a mistake, you know? Derek has five claws, not just four!”

A sound escaped her, like a hiss when the knife slit her throat. Stiles watched with satisfaction as her head fell back and her body disappeared.

Derek reached him just before his strength could leave. He held onto his shoulder as he was lower to the ground, so gently he almost didn’t feel it.

With glassy eyes, Derek looked down on him, scanning his body for injuries.

“You could have gotten yourself killed.”

Stiles didn’t believe in wonders but here he was, in Derek’s lap, victorious and alive.

“You came to save me,” was all he could say, all he could think of. Because he hadn’t believed it. Not even, when he recognised Derek’s howl in the doorway when Envy had attacked him. He would have never believed anyone would come for him.

“Of course, I came. What do you think? That I’d let you die?” Stiles didn’t admit it, not even to himself, but his deepest fear had almost come true.

“Stiles-“ Derek coughed as if there was a blockage in his throat “Don’t you ever do this to me again.” He had aimed for stern but it came out wobbly, betraying the scowl on his face.

“Sorry.” Stiles winced when Derek pressed a little too harshly onto the cut in his arm.

“You’re hurt.” Not a minute later and the Alpha wiped away the blood covering his body and black lines disappeared under his skin.

“You shouldn’t have done that-“ Stiles still had trouble breathing “I deserved it.”

Derek looked furious, teeth elongating.

“I never want to hear you say that again, do you hear me? Never, Stiles!”

Stiles couldn’t help the hopeful attempt of a smile.

“Why did you even come here alone? Why not call one of us?” Instantly, Stiles pulled away from him, suddenly once more with his back against the wall and those voices in his head.

“I wanted-“ he tried again, voice unsteady and avoiding eye contact “I needed to do it alone.”

“Why?”

Stiles snapped: “Because Lydia did the research. And Lydia found out what they’re after. I just needed-“

“You needed to prove it to yourself…” there was no judgment in Derek’s tone so Stiles dared to look at him.

And then Derek asked him, the question was so afraid of hearing:

“What did you see?” Stiles didn’t ask him how he knew, didn’t even care. Everything inside him wanted to flee, to bury this night and every word that had been said, but he powered through.

“It’s not true, you know? None of it!”

And Stiles wanted to tell him that he knew, wanted to say it was alright but he couldn’t. Envy hadn’t pulled those words out of nowhere. Real fear lay under them and it would take time to disable them one by one. Having Derek here and hovering over him protectively was a start.

But then, a question came to Stiles’ mind that he was curious about. Also, he felt the desperate need to lighten the mood, to talk about anything but what he had seen.

“How- how did you even know I was gone?” it came out shaky and he buried deeper into Derek’s chest. The wolf was warm against his touch.

“Your Dad called and said your room was empty and he couldn’t find you.” Derek paused, a small smile on his face, almost hesitant as if unsure of Stiles’ permission for such an action.

“I found the copy of the map you made where you circled in the warehouse. Just like I was supposed to…” now the smile had turned into a smirk and Stiles’ face flashed hot. He was, for the lack of a better word, thoroughly distracted and held onto the feeling with all his might. Dark corners still surrounded them and Stiles was determined not to let them come any closer. He wanted to get up but still couldn’t move.

So, instead, he asked: “How-“

“I know you. Even if you don’t believe me.” Derek pushed a strand of hair away from where it had fallen into Stiles’ eyes.

“I knew you wouldn’t have left with no way to find you. So, I dug through your hiding places and found the map.”

Stiles didn’t know what to feel: glad that Derek had been smart enough to even look, offended at his obvious amusement, happy because he had come?

Then Derek closed his explanation with: “Where you planted it for me to find.” and Stiles hit him over the head. Or tried to. While he attempted it, the blood started to flow again and Derek pressed his shirt against it, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to distract him from the pain.

“I didn’t plant it for you to find. I just- wanted to have a back-up plan, that’s all.” He ignored the heat in his cheek and his pained hiss when Derek changed his position a bit.

“Liar,” Derek whispered, sounding fond and exasperated and all kinds of glad at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been such an idiot.” Stiles mumbled, embarrassed, ashamed and so very hurt.

“I know- it’s alright.”

“I shouldn’t have-“

Derek’s eyes narrowed, but the emotion in his eyes wasn’t anger, but worry.

“No. You really shouldn’t have, but you did and here we are. And you beat her ass. So, that has to count for something, right?”

Stiles nodded numbly, still not sure he deserved to be let off the hook so easily.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Stiles-“

“No, hear me out. I shouldn’t have run in like that. I should have called and told you about what I was about to do because I could have died so easily. She was this close,” he showed Derek with a weird hand gesture “and there wouldn’t have been anything left of me.”

“But you beat her.”

“Barely.”

“You still did it.” Derek was apparently determined to make Stiles feel better. Stiles felt a lump in his throat. Derek should yell at him, shove him away, do anything but hold him this close.

“Derek-“

“No. I’m not blaming you for this. You did what you had to do, like everyone else. You pulled your weight- and while I never, ever want to see this happen again, I’m so proud of you.” It worked like a soothe, mending some of the parts that had broken inside him when the other Derek had told him he wasn’t worth anything.

It was the last straw.

Before Derek could even take a breath, Stiles had leaned in, ignoring his aching shoulder and burning arm, and had pressed his lips against the wolf’s. At first, Derek didn’t react and Stiles was about to pull away and apologise profusely, but then the Alpha closed his arms around him and pulled him closer, still careful, still gentle.

No butterflies filled Stiles’ stomach and no fireworks went of in his head. Instead, something in him settled, like it had been askew and the kiss had set it right again. He felt a tingle all over his body, a flutter in his heart.

Like coming home.

They parted after what could have been an hour, but in reality, was only a minute. Derek stared at him, eyes dark and vulnerable and Stiles didn’t know what to say.

“Stiles-“

But Stiles’ head was already running away again.

“If that’s not what you want, I’m really sorry. We can forget it happened and-“

“Thank you-“ Derek interrupted and effectively shushed him. “Is what I wanted to say.”

The smile that tugged at the corners of Stiles’ lips felt like the sun coming out after a rainy day.

“Come on,” Derek pulled him up, careful to help him so that Stiles wouldn’t put too much weight on his injured leg.

They made it to the car without hassle, Derek holding almost all of Stiles’ body up so that he could slide in without hurting himself even more.

“You good to drive?” Stiles asked once Derek had started the Camaro.

“Already healed,” he showed the arm where Envy hat hit him and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, that’s just unfair,” his tone was light and teasing, a stark contrast to the last time he had complained about supernatural powers.

“Careful, wouldn’t want you to sound jealous,” Derek’s smirk made Stiles want to hit him again, in a good way, with his lips, for example. He just couldn’t be mad at Derek joking, even if it was at his expanse. Also, the werewolf mojo had really outdone itself this time. He barely felt the cut in his arm anymore. Only his ankle protested whenever he moved too much.

* * *

It didn’t take long until they passed the Beacon Hills sign and Derek immediately stiffened in his seat. Stiles only had time to raise an eyebrow and ask what was wrong, when a loud shot rang through the woods.

His good mood instantly disappeared, making way for dread slowly filling his stomach.

One good day, he thought to himself, that’s all I want. Give me one good day.

“He’s here-“ Derek sounded scared in a way Stiles hadn’t heard in a while. His heart beat faster and it had nothing to with Derek’s proximity.

He was almost afraid to ask. “Who’s here?”

“Wrath-“

Derek scanned the edges of the preserve, as if something was about to jump out and attack them. Stiles’ skin prickled, he looked around, ready to hit the gas. Even though he couldn’t hear anything, he felt as if the demon was already on the way and about to attack. Its presence was palpable, even inside the car.

There was a tick in Derek’s jaw, his eyes widened and he whispered, voice filled with dread:

_“He’s already here…”_


	8. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Just a quick note and apology: I wanted to let all of you know that I am incredibly sorry for not keeping to my update-schedule. I'm currently on vacation and working on the 8th chapter but things are progressing slowly since I only have one hour in the evening per day to write. 

For all of you who have been patiently waiting, I'm really sorry and will try to upload as fast as possible. 


	9. Wrath (Ira) If you stand in my way, I will remove you by force...

_"Wrath is just a form of grief that has been silenced for too long."_

_“He’s already here…”_

“How can he be here already?” Stiles was frantically looking around.

“Can you see him?”

“No.” Derek’s attention was not in the car.

“Can you still hear him?” Stiles pulled at Derek’s sleeve “Derek-“

“Shsh!”

Stiles couldn’t sit still, first, he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt then with a loose thread. The wait was killing him, but the uncertainty even more so. Derek kept driving, eyes glued to the road.

“Derek-“

“There’s a riot. People are fighting. Someone has been shot in the leg.”

Well- fuck!

Stiles mumbled to himself, always the same string of words.

“How is here? We just got rid of her!”

They were so screwed.

“I don’t know!” Sheer frustration bled through Derek’s voice. He hit the gas.

And then Stiles heard them too, even while in the car.

Noises, sirens, screaming.

Derek barked out an order: “Lock the doors!” and they reached their destination.

A mob had formed on the street, seemingly of two disagreeing parties, that were yelling at each other and throwing punches. Stiles barely caught a glimpse of a man being carried away on a stretcher, his leg bleeding furiously.

In the middle of the road he saw his father, tying to dissolve an argument and shoving people away.

He yelled at Derek: “Stop!” but the wolf shook his head.

“If we stop, they can get in! I don’t want to have to fight them off, they’re not in their right minds.”

“It’s my Dad. I need-“

But Derek had already locked the door from the inside, not letting Stiles get out.

“You need to let him do his job!”

They turned a corner and rushed through the mob. Fists flew against the car but not one was strong enough to break even a window. Stiles held on for dear life when Derek nearly ran over a woman holding a sign and screaming at the top of her lungs.

After Derek screeched to a halt to avoid hitting her with the hood of the Camaro. That was precisely the moment when Stiles saw her. In plain view and so out of place like only she could be. Head to toe dressed in red, hair tongues of fire, the colour of blood tinting her lips. And while they turned, he caught her eye. Flames burned in black orbs, as if someone had lit a match in them and forgot to put it out.

“Derek- Derek, look!” The wolf startled and turned his head. A smile graced her lips, suggesting that she knew well enough who was speeding away from her. She slowly lifted a hand then, waved and Stiles could see it, could see the ring, reflecting in the sunlight, with a ruby just as red as her.

Stiles figured, it took all Derek had, judging by the scowl on his face, not to stop right then and there. But something put the off about her. She was a demon, undoubtedly, had recognised them too and yet both of them refrained from neutralising that particular threat. Maybe it was the power her simple presence was radiating, maybe the unconcerned grin on her face. But Stiles and Derek simultaneously decided, without exchanging one word between them, that they would drive away.

Neither spoke until the door of the loft closed safely behind them, so that they were locked in and secure. In the living room, Stiles plopped down on the couch, wincing when he landed wrong on his ankle.

Derek was immediately by his side, throwing him concerned glances and elevating his leg. Once Stiles was deemed properly seated, at least in Derek’s eyes, he wandered into the kitchen to prepare some snacks and the stitching kit- an odd combination if you asked Stiles.

“Sit up a litte?” Derek requested. With a bit of help from the Alpha, Stiles managed, barely, though since exhaustion was taking over rather quickly. Derek careful cleaned the claw marks, snarling when he saw how deep Envy had cut the skin.

“How bad does it hurt?” Stiles had trouble keeping his eyes open, even though the antiseptic burned. He made a hand gesture, signalling that it was a mediocre sort of pain, which would have been a clear lie if not for Derek working his mojo on him still.

He didn’t even feel the needle pressing into his skin, nor the yarn stitching him back together.

After they finished cleaning each other from various splatters of blood, Stiles thought back to the scenery they had witnessed.

“You saw her too, right? I didn’t-“ Stiles breathed in shakily “I didn’t imagine her?” Derek nodded, face an unreadable mask.

Stiles kept babbling on: “It was her- it was wrath. Did you see her hair? Shit!” He didn’t know why his heart was imitating a rabbit but seeing her wave at them, so nonchalantly, had him on edge.

“I know- I saw her…” Derek looked absent, as if he was thinking hard about something.

“We need to call the others. Give me your phone.” Derek simply handed it to him, still not really in the room.

Stiles halted in his motion, worried there was something the Alpha wasn’t telling him.

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

When Derek didn’t react, Stiles placed his hands on either arm and squeezed. Finally, the wolf looked at him, terror in his eyes.

“What if it’s me? I didn’t have one before.”

Stiles didn’t have an answer to that. But what he did have was hope.

“Maybe no one will get infected, did you ever think about that?”

“What are the chances? With our pack.”

“Let’s not- let’s just take it slow, alright?” His racing heart betrayed his sincerity but Derek still smiled at him.

“Slow?”

“Slow.” Stiles smiled back, huffing a sigh of relief at having Derek back in the present with him.

After that, they lapsed into silence that wasn’t all too comfortable. Stiles fiddled around for a bit, suddenly all too aware of what had happened in the warehouse. He didn’t quite know how to approach the subject, how to clear the fronts, so to speak. A kiss could mean anything or nothing at all. And– _God_ – if Stiles didn’t want it to mean everything.

“Do you-“

“Are you-“

They spoke at the same time, resolutely avoiding eye contact.

“You first.” Derek made a vague hand gesture.

“Do you want to have something to eat?” For some reason that made Derek giggle.

“Wha-“

“Are you hungry, is what I wanted to ask…”

Oh. Well. In that case.

“Can you order some Chinese? I think this calls for noodles,” Stiles cringed inwardly. Their easy banter didn’t work for some reason but he was determined to keep the mood light. After all, he had just survived a rather vicious attack. And, thinking about that, he realised, he really didn’t want to think about that.

“Your usual?” Derek asked over his shoulder. Stiles nodded, feeling bashful that Derek knew his usual order. But then again, they did have dinner every once a week. Never before Chinese though. That had, until now, strictly been reserved for pack nights.

The food arrived not much later and Stiles wrestled with Derek for his wallet before winning and paying the delivery boy while being completely out of breath.

He suspected that Derek had been easy on him but hey, he finally got to pay, so that had to count for something, right?

* * *

The only obstacle in their way turned out to be the goodbye. Stiles leaned in for a hug, Derek for a kiss, or at least that’s what Stiles thought. Awkward is what it was and furious blushing on both sides ensued. Stiles nearly knocked his shoulder at the door in his haste to turn away and Derek wanted to grab the doorframe but missed and almost toppled over.

“I’ll- I’ll text you when I get home…”

“Good. Yes. Bye.” The door closed before Stiles could embarrass himself any longer and he was silently grateful. He reached his house without incident, but that maybe due to the way he drove there, taking corners slowly but hitting the gas once he got to the main road.

His father was home when he finally made it inside. Two steps into the living room Stiles pulled his Dad into a tight hug, breathing out shakily when all his anxiety from earlier came back.

“I take it, you heard about it?”

“Saw it.”

His Dad huffed, obviously not the least bit surprised that his son had once again been involved in, or had been witness to, a street brawl. Not an unusual occurrence and Stiles considered if that should tell him something about his habits that had brought him into lethal situation more often than not.

They talked a lot about the uproar, Stiles letting his Dad know that they knew it was Wrath and his father telling him how the fight had come to be in the first place. Stiles felt comfortable just being in his father’s presence, even when discussing such grave matters.

He left out some more or less important details about how they had gotten rid of Envy, kissing Derek was one of those points, and went to bed with a lighter heart. He texted Derek, happy when he got a sweet “good night” back, with a hug emoticon and went to bed without any worry whatsoever.

* * *

It was good while it lasted, Stiles would think to himself in the morning. But, as it were, he needed some time to come to that conclusion.

In fact, it had started simple enough. He had gone to bed, not the least bit worried, had fluffed up his pillow and had rolled on his back, just like he usually would. Not long ago after, his dreams had changed from fairy-tale kisses with Derek to one, very specific, warehouse. Haunted by the pack, taunted by their words, he woke up, heart racing and bathed in sweat. He was so disoriented that he didn’t know where he was.

With clumsy fingers, he managed to switch on the light, blinked against the sudden brightness. A shuddering breath and he realised, he was in his room. A glance at the clock told him it was only half past one. Thinking the nightmare to be over, he fell back against the cushion, his breathing still slightly elevated.

He closed his eyes, ready to go to sleep once more, when memories flooded his brain. For barely a second, he thought, he was dreaming again but then, he realised that this was a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

All their accusations, all their snide remarks came rushing in, at once overwhelming him with the need to get out, get away from them. This time though, there was no escape, no Envy to kill.

He sat straight up, in an attempt to soothe himself, but the calmness refused to come.

Counting to hundred, whatever else he tried, all attempts failed. The voiced kept increasing in volume, their words playing on repeat in his brain. He pressed a hand to his chest, determined fight against drums pulsing in his ears and his heart aching in his chest.

Tears started to flood, but he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. When he slung his arms around himself and gently rocked back and forth, he realised that he was shaking. His hands tried to cover his ears, to block out the noise.

It was for naught. He pulled his hair, yelled at himself to “wake up!”, all for nothing.

This wasn’t a dream

\- wasn’t a dream

\- wasn’t a dream,

he kept telling himself. His body convulsed, his breath came short. He needed air, needed to breathe. As a last, ditch effort, he poured the water from his nightstand over his head, hoping to shock himself out of this nightmare. It didn’t work, only made the voices laugh at him more, mock him for this display of weakness. Envy stared at him through narrowed eyes, laughing at him that he hadn’t overcome her, not really.

He had just pushed his issues aside to kill her. In hell, she promised him, she’d reserve a special place, because he was a sinner, still so engulfed in her influence that he had lied to everyone around him, had told them, he was alright. So clear it was, she laughed at him, that he hadn’t really elevated himself from her, no, he had pushed down until only his wrath had remained, fear forgotten. But now, in the middle of the night, when he was alone with his thoughts, she had struck again, her true demonic power claiming him as one of hers.

He tried to deny it, tried to argue with himself that this wasn’t true, he had overcome her, just by killing her.

Deep down though, he knew, he hadn’t accepted it, still wasn’t accepting the fact that he was envious of his pack. Blindly, he fumbled for his phone and sent out a message, that would scare him in the morning.

  
_Pack meeting. I was the one infected by Envy. I’m sorry._

* * *

After tossing and turning the whole night through, Stiles woke up with a terrible headache. His eyes were swollen and red rimmed, his throat sore and his body tired. Without really seeing, he searched for his phone, sight blurry and unfocused.

Surprisingly, he saw around 8 different message alerts, five missed calls and two voicemails. Slowly, his decision to text the pack in the group chat came back to him. He put off reading through the chat for as long as he could, but when Scott and Derek called for the tenth time each, Stiles finally had the courage to pick up. Incidentally, it wasn’t either of the two who answered, but Jackson.

And a furious one at that.

“Stilinski, so help me, if you don’t open your door when I come to get you, I will drag you out by your hair if I have to.”

Stiles glanced at the caller-ID in horror, wishing he had stuck to ignoring his phone instead of answering. It was just his luck, wasn’t it? The one time he did pick up, it was the one time that Jackson called.

“Any complaints? No? Good.” With that, Jackson hung up, leaving a very confused, and lowkey scared, Stiles staring at his phone. He barely had time to get dressed and prepare himself when the doorbell rang obnoxiously. Stiles had half a mind not to open but knowing Jackson, he thought it better not to test his temper right now.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

Stiles tried to argue the whole way to what he dared to presume was Derek’s loft. Jackson wasn’t having it. He shushed Stiles’ each and every attempt to communicate and instead stared straight ahead at the road. Once they reached the parking lot, Jackson nearly ripped the Porsche’s door out by opening it too forcefully. Stiles cringed, knowing full well how angry Jackson must be for him not to give a damn about the state of his beloved car.

His stomach plummeted to a place somewhere in the basement when Isaac opened the front door with a grave expression. If Isaac was mad at him, things were about to get ugly. A tornado of strawberry-blonde hair came at him then, hitting him in the chest so hard, he stumbled back against Jackson.

“MieczysławStilinski!” Stiles barely had time to appreciate– and wonder about– her correct pronunciation of his name– he also didn’t miss the way Derek’s eyebrows drew up when he heard the name for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were when we got that text at two in the morning like a complete moron?”

Stiles shrunk back further into Jackson who huffed and pushed him gently forward. Or as gently as Jackson could. In reality, he stumbled into the loft with so much force, he nearly knocked Lydia over. Isaac though, bless the guy, righted him before any of this could happen.

“Didn’t look at the time,” someone, might have been Erica, scoffed at his obvious lie.

“What happened? After I dropped you off yesterday, you seemed fine?”

“Dropped you off? What’s going on here?” Scott intervened, sounding as confused as he looked.

“Seriously, guys. Tell us what’s going on! I feel like we’ve missed half a year and not just yesterday!” Erica scowled at Stiles, but he noted with a bit of relief, that she eyed Derek too.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you guys…”

Lydia mumbled “At two in the morning.”

Stiles ignored her comment, breathed in deeply- and launched himself into an explanation that he didn’t stop until he had finished.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles muttered after his recapitulation and once he found the courage to do so.

“You’re sorry!” Lydia spat out, paused, looked up at him.

“What are _you_ sorry for?”

Stiles stared at her, then at the rest of the pack, utterly perplexed.

“For going off alone, for not telling you guys…?” When he realised that Lydia’s expression darkened with every word that came out of his mouth, he trailed off.

“Are you seriously this oblivious or did your brain take a hit too when she showed you those nonsensical hallucinations?”

Derek growled at Lydia, who shushed him with a simple wave of her hand.

“After all you just told us, you still feel like _you_ are the one in need to apologise?” And now her voice had taken on a different note, one that spoke of sadness and guilt. Stiles didn’t know how to answer her, so he chose to stay quiet and stare at his knees. A gentle hand lifted his chin up, green eyes met his.

“I’m sorry, for saying the things to you that I did. I never stopped to think about how much hurt I caused you.” She breathed in shakily, her eyes glassy.

“I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to shake it off, tell her it’s fine, not a big deal, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.

“Man, why didn’t you say something? I would have come with you…” Scott was next, puppy eyes at the ready.

“Maybe because he doesn’t want to always have to tell you anything for you to notice,” Jackson spat out from where he was leaning a little too casually against the wall. Scott though, looked at the other Beta with such a confused expression that Stiles couldn’t help the wet chuckle bubbling in his throat.

“It’s alright, I know you don’t do it deliberately.”

“I won’t do it again, promise.” Scott pat Stiles’ shoulder, promising something that both of them knew he wouldn’t uphold. Stiles still smiled at him, taking relief at the sentiment, the mere gesture.

“You know I like you. I might have needed to get to Scott in the beginning but I never used you for that. I hang out with you because I like you, nothing else.” Isaac snuggled closer to where he was pressed against Stiles, purring like a kitten when Stiles ruffled his hair. That one had been one of the easiest and one of the hardest accusations. It had stung more than Stiles thought it would.

Some time, he figured, Isaac had wormed his way into Stiles’ heart, creating a place there for himself that was big enough to put the whole world in it.

“You’re badass, Stilinski. I always tell you that.” Erica cuffed him on the arm. He caught her hand, looked at her. She threw himself into his lap, nearly crushing him with the force of it. Well aware that everyone in the room politely turned away to give them some sense of privacy, Erica leaned in and whispered:

“You’re my best friend.”

“You too, cat-woman.” Stiles couldn’t help the tremble in his voice. He squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to tell her, without saying, how much she meant to him.

She climbed off of him, sniffing softly but a grin already in place and flung herself dramatically into a chair.

“You’re not trouble. Not in the bad way. I respect you.” Boyd stated and afterwards immediately retired to the kitchen without another word.

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you again. I promised you that then and I still stand by that now. Never, Stiles. I’d rather let them kill me than get you,” Allison pressed out, her jaw clenched and a fire in her eyes that burned with intensity.

Stiles tried to protest “I didn’t-“

“No,” Allison didn’t let him finish.

“You have every right to think that and I don’t blame you for it. But I want you to know that I won’t ever turn on you like that again. Not because you’re Scott’s best friend,” Stiles saw her brush Scott’s fingers fleetingly “But because you’re family to me.”

Pink tinged her cheeks but the determined look didn’t waver.

Not once.

Stiles felt unease creep in once he turned to Derek. Just like with Envy, the Alpha was last in line and just like then, Stiles feared his words most.

“None of this was your fault. I keep telling you that and you keep ignoring me. But I need you to listen now, Stiles,” Derek had leaned in closer, holing his gaze captive.

“I have never met anyone more stupidly brave than you. And still you couldn’t save them,” Stiles made to rise from where he was sitting, starting Isaac in the process.

“Sit down! I’m not accusing you! I’m saying that if not even you, with your stubborn head and stupid courage, could save them, then _nobody_ could have. You gave it all you’ve got and it wasn’t enough and I get how that feels, Stiles, believe me, I get that, but you have to accept that sometimes, what you’re willing to give doesn’t matter. But that doesn’t mean any of this was ever your fault. I don’t think that and the pack doesn’t think that either.”

Derek stood up then, crossing over to where Stiles was still half way out of his seat and pressed him back down, manoeuvring himself between Scott and Stiles to get closer.

“I’ve told you- remember?- when I came over - I told you what I think about you. I still mean that. I’ll always mean that”

A large hand sunk down heavy on Stiles’ shoulder, grounding him in a way.

“You’re not nothing. You’ll never be nothing.” Derek looked him in the eyes, almost shyly.

“You never were,” a short pause, as if he didn’t know how much to say and then he continued: “Not to me.”

Stiles’ heart fluttered in his chest, a funny feeling, and he pressed a hand against it to soothe, to calm. Derek, though, grabbed his hand and pulled it away, putting it over his own heart instead.

“Listen to me, alright? Just listen.” Stiles nodded, mesmerised by what was happening while simultaneously so scared to break the moment.

“The Nogitsune- no, listen!” Stiles had tried to pull away at the mention of it, unable to hear the word when his nightmare had come so close to falling back into this feeling of terror.

“The Nogitsune, Envy, whatever else you’re blaming yourself for- none of that was your fault.”

Even without superpowers, Stiles felt Derek’s heart beat steadily against his fingers, not skipping once. He turned his head though, searching for the one person in the room, who he knew would tell him nothing but the cold hard truth.

Jackson nodded, face immovable.

Stiles managed a shaky smile then reached out slowly and pulled until Derek fell into a hug that knocked the air out of both of them.

“I’ll order take out,” Erica suddenly announced. Immediately, the wolves started talking about food, completely ignoring Stiles and Derek cuddling in their midst. Isaac was the only one still involved, but that maybe due to his entanglement with and refusal to let go of Stiles’ arm.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to calm down, finding joy in the way the others fought tooth and nail over dinner and dessert. He hadn’t missed the way Jackson had dodged the conversation, listening intently but not participating. It felt out of place for him and something in Stiles wouldn’t settle over this display of unusual behaviour. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Jackson did indeed think all the things that Envy had conjured up and just wanted to spare Stiles’ feelings.

As it turned out, he was very much mistaken, proven by Jackson himself when the wolf cornered him in the hallway, while the others were eating and talking loud enough for them to be overheard.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jackson immediately demanded to know, anger laced with a taste of hurt in his voice.

Stiles didn’t have an answer to that, suddenly aware that he had come to the wrong conclusion.

“I thought we were friends?”

Oh God no. That hadn’t been-

“Jackson-“

“It’s not like I care anyway,” with that, and with his chin raised high, Jackson attempted to storm out, but Stiles didn’t let him.

“Of course, we’re friends.” It took a look to his chest for Jackson to confirm he wasn’t being lied to. Stiles couldn’t blame him for his suspicion.

“Then why not tell me?”

“Because I was scared!” Stiles hadn’t meant for it to come out as harshly as it did.

“I was scared you’d tell me it wasn’t just her illusions.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow at that: “Do you? Do you really? Because it doesn’t look like it to me.”

“I’m working on it…” was the only honest answer he could give.

“Work harder.”

“It’s not that simple, you know?”

“Why not?”

“Because I thought it was true!”

“You thought what was true?”

“What she showed me! Do you seriously not get that? It’s all things that someone- that one of you said to me- and I couldn’t get it out of my head that you still think those things, that you just don’t say them to my face! Because you called me ugly and pathetic and weak. And Lydia told me she thought I was stupid! Scott ditched me for someone better! That’s all things that happened and that voice in my head kept telling me you meant it! And I couldn’t confront that. Because if it was true, that would-“

He fought against the sore in his throat, the burn in his eyes for maybe the third time today.

“I wouldn’t have been able to handle that…” he admitted finally, watching a thoughtful look appear on Jackson’s face. His answer, though, sent him reeling, his breathing still laboured, his temper still flaring hot.

“And Derek?”

“What about Derek?”

“What did he say to you?”

“That’s none of your business!” Stiles hadn’t gone into specifics, having told Derek himself after it had happened and not wishing to rehash it now in front of the pack, at least not in detail. The pack surely had made their own story up, based on Derek’s little speech but he wasn’t about to feed into that. He also didn’t understand, why Jackson was that concerned with the Alpha specifically.

“Well, I’m making it my business right now!” Jackson shoved him against the wall so suddenly that Stiles was utterly unprepared.

“I won’t let go until you tell me!” Stiles struggled against his grip, bit and kicked every part he could reach, all for naught. Jackson stood his ground and even without knowing exactly why, Stiles blurted out:

“Fine! Alright? I’ll fucking tell you!”

He breathed in, to gather his wits and steady himself: “I wasn’t worth the trouble of keeping me around. That I’m nothing without all of you…” Even after preparing those words carefully in his head, he still couldn’t say them without stuttering. It pained him to voice them, to hear them said out loud once more.

Jackson let go, took a step back.

“He doesn’t think that!” the Kanima barked out.

“He never thought that! That’s bullshit!”

“How would you know?” Stiles bit out. Yes, Derek had assured him time and time again, but it was still hard to believe.

“Because it’s obvious, Stilinski! I have a brain in my head, you know!”

The unease in Stiles’ stomach settled a little, a fraction.

“I know.”

“You’re not pathetic, by the way,” Jackson huffed as if even saying it out loud caused him stress.

“I know, I said it to you. But you’re not.” Stiles almost smiled at the way Jackson said it, as if it pained him to talk about anything but lacrosse. He would have fooled a stranger, but not Stiles.

“You saw through her bullshit, when nobody else did.”

“What?” He had lost Stiles there somewhere in this thinking process. Jackson rolled his eyes.

“You broke her illusion by being smart. Because she made a mistake and you noticed when no one else that was infected did. Lydia knew and she still cheated.”

Stiles attempted to shrug it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but Jackson refused to let him.

“Can you, for once, just take some damn credit for what you’ve done? You beat her single-handedly, cut through an illusion of your friends telling you stuff and still want to stand here and tell me, you don’t see your own worth? Because if that’s the case, maybe you should hit your head against another wall just to make sure everything’s working right.”

With that, he gave Stiles a light shove and sauntered off, presumably getting himself something to eat. Meanwhile, Stiles was left leaning against the wall as the wheels turned in his head.

Tentatively, he reached out to that strand of hope Jackson had left behind, following it back to that night and re-watching the fight. Cautious pride filled his brain, seeping through the cracks his self-deprecation had left behind.

“By the way, he’s head over heels for you, otherwise I would have kicked his ass for being such a-“

“JACKSON!” Derek’s roar made the wall shake. Stiles stared at a retreating Jackson with a shit-eating grin on his face. Stiles was left to one thought circulating through his mind:

_What the fuck was that?_

* * *

After dinner, the pack slowly trickled out of Derek’s apartment. This time, Stiles made it a point to leave as one of the earlier ones, not wanting to have another heart-to-heart with Derek. He drove himself home, surrounded by a cloud of words that drowned out the noises in his head still telling him to be careful. For the moment, he wanted to bask in the security the pack had managed to lull him into.

It was still too early to go to sleep, and after last night’s debacle, he didn’t fancy it anyway, so, he stayed up with a book in his lap and his eyes glued to the pages. Around two hours later, he had to concentrate really hard to keep reading, something triggered his interest. He skipped back to the beginning of the chapter, roamed over the words and nearly choked on his breath.

How on earth hadn’t he realised before?

It was almost too easy.

He had been so stupid, too busy concentrating on each sin to see the greater picture.

But now, it had all come into focus with a clarity that frightened him.

Nimble fingers traced the letters, re-reading again and again, to be sure. A light was lit in his head- like a fucking chandelier, if Stiles ever dared to make that comparison.

How jealous he had been of Lydia for having figured it all out. And here he was, realising that she had unravelled but half of it.

A call went out to Derek, whose voice grew frantic rather quickly on the other end of the line.

“It’s connected. And I know, it sounds obvious but we didn’t concentrate on the fact that they’re all part of the same thing.”

“What do you mean? Of course, they are connected. That knight of hell is their boss. We know that already,” confusion laced Derek’s voice but he didn’t sound annoyed, merely curious as if he knew Stiles was getting somewhere.

“ _I know that._ But it’s not just them boosting up the soul count. It’s like a ladder- you know, like in the Nintendo games- like Mario Bros- where you have to go up against a Minibowser before getting to the main one? It’s the same with them. Envy isn’t more dangerous than Gluttony just because. They also have more abilities. Like Envy- she could produce illusions but they weren’t all that accurate. But Gluttony couldn’t do anything of that kind, he just touched people to infect them. Lust almost beat Erica’s ass when neither Sloth nor Gluttony even picked a fight. Pride cost more lives but hid himself instead of fighting. Greed had the power to lure people out, to him, like Lydia into the woods, but Pride had to go get Scott himself.”

Derek, who had been listening closely up to this point, didn’t even ask how Stiles had figured it out, but cut to the question both of them were anxious to have answered.

“What about Wrath?”

“I don’t really know yet. I think she’s not for nothing the very last one. She’s also incredibly close timewise to Envy. That’s not coincidence. I think they were all hiding out and only when one is gone, another can strike. And Wrath doesn’t have a good temper, so she rushed out as soon as Envy was gone.”

“Illusions…” Derek mused over the phone. Stiles could almost see him pacing and messing up his hair.

“She probably can fight. Maybe showed them illusions of what they hate most?” Stiles needed a moment to figure out Derek was talking about the fight they had encountered.

“That’s not all…” Stiles said hesitantly.

“Continue.”

“Their boss, the knight of hell, like Lydia said…” he paused again “I have a strong suspicion that he’s what’s at the end of this line.”

“Fuck!” Derek exclaimed. And Stiles knew then, that Derek wholeheartedly believed he was right.

“What do we do? How can we go up against a knight of hell?” Sheer desperation echoed through the line when Derek fell heavily on the couch.

“I don’t know- Derek-“

“We have to figure this out. Before we get Wrath, we have to have a plan. Otherwise we’re-“

“We’re screwed.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll try. ‘kay?”

“I know,” Derek’s confidence didn’t seem to waver, but hopelessness tinged his voice when he added “I’m just not sure you _can_ do anything.”

* * *

As it turned out, Derek was right. The Sheriff, Parrish and two deputies Stiles knew well sat in his living room with grave expressions when he came down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked, thoroughly bewildered by the fact that they all looked at him expectantly. As if he had the answers to questions not yet asked.

“A curfew,” Parrish said, leaning closer to the map that had been spread unceremoniously on the dining table.

“We’re imposing a curfew.” The deputy eyed Stiles in a way that told him all he needed to know about the urgency of the situation. If they were desperate enough to take such a step, then something impactful must have happened. He was proven right in his suspicions, when his father sighed and turned to him.

“We can’t even keep count of the numbers of people who have been killed, have killed each other or have been brought to the ER today. After that uproar Derek sped out of- don’t look like that, he told me on his own volition that he had been speeding- anyway, after that- that massacre, there were even more separate incidents: men beating their wives, children shooting their parents, siblings wrestling it out in the garden, people on the street fighting over nothing, the list goes on.”

“They don’t have anything in common either, just random people losing their minds and flipping a switch. Almost as if they were under an influence…” Andrea, one of the two deputies mused.  
Stiles fumbled with the hem of his shirt, all too aware that three people in the room knew the cause of the issue, while two were unaware. It didn’t make the situation any easier.

“What I don’t get is, why people suddenly have no self-control. If we’re honest, this has been going on for more than a week. Remember? It started with those murders and then came those strange cases that shouldn’t have been possible in the first place.” Kyle, the other deputy in the room, stated.

The Sheriff, Parrish and Stiles exchanged worried glances, praying that he wouldn’t dive too deep into this. The town wasn’t ready to become aware of the supernatural.

“And then all those-“

But the Sheriff stopped Kyle before he could go on: “There is no need to tell us everything we already know.”

“We are going to be patrolling through the streets and you,” Stiles was now addressed with a stern look, “you are going to stay inside, do you hear me?”

Stiles knew that this was not the time to disagree with his father, so, he simply nodded his okay.

His Dad didn’t look quite as convinced as Stiles would have liked when he left. And every other time, the old man would have been right, but Stiles had seen a demon up close and had decided then to do as he was told as long as nothing important came up. Derek reassured him twice that, at least for now, nothing was in dire need of attention.

He planned on having a relaxing night in, for once, focussing on himself and himself only- without feeling an ounce of guilt for watching a movie and eating popcorn.

* * *

After reading for a bit and cuddling with, what he would not admit, not even on his deathbed was Derek’s Henley he had forgotten after a vicious Pixie attack, he decided to go to sleep early.

Unfortunately, the peaceful, and well-deserved slumber, didn’t last long.

Pang.

Stiles sat up in bed, back straight, breath short, sweat gathering on his upper lip. For a moment, he wasn’t all too sure if the noise had stemmed from his imagination, if it maybe had been a dream.

He listened carefully, his senses tuning into every noise, every sound that came from downstairs. Not a minute later and another loud pang echoed through the empty house. With clammy fingers, Stiles felt around for the handle of his bat, pulling it out from under his bedframe. He got out of bed, as quietly as possible making his way downstairs, carefully spying around corners and seeing no one there.

Kitchen. Pantry. Hallway.

No one was there. That left the living room, so Stiles stepped inside, ready to hit the intruder over the head with all he had.

Something heavy connected with his skull.

* * *

Cold.

Wet.

_Water?_

Were his first impression upon remaining consciousness again. He tried to sit up to no avail since he was immediately pushed back down by a pair of hands.

“Easy,” he recognised his father’s voice coming from a few inches above him and blinked his eyes open.

“Wh- what happened?” Vaguely, he remembered holding up a bat and turning a corner, but then, his memory completely cut off.

“Break-in. Knocked you right out.” If it weren’t for the worry so clearly visible on his Dad’s face, Stiles would have thought he was talking about the weather. Once more, Stiles tried to sit up and this time, he was not hindered in doing so.

The minute he was upright though, the room decided to spin. Stiles barely managed to avoid vomiting but it was a fairly close call.

“Alright, son?” A steadying hand held his back so that he would not sink down to the floor again. It took a while but then, Stiles finally made the room stay in its actual angles, he nodded.

“I don’t think you have a concussion but maybe I should still drive you to the ER. He hit your head pretty hard.”

Stiles touched the back of his head and felt a sticky fluid that he knew all too well coat his hair. Sure enough, when he looked at his hand, it was covered in blood.

“Ah, alright. Let’s get you to the ER.” His Dad wouldn’t hear any protests and so, Stiles was ushered into the ER, where a stressed Melissa McCall declared him perfectly healthy, if slightly bruised. The blood, it turned out was only a minor injury, where the skin had split upon impact.

Back in their kitchen, at almost two in the morning, Stiles was finally told the full version of events that had caused his, how many ever, visit in a row to the ER.

“We already had him on our radar, that’s why I was home fast enough to catch him.”

“So, you have the guy?” Stiles’ head still hurt like hell, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the constant ache in his skull.

“Yes. In a holding cell with a lock on it.” His father’s smile was a mix between reassuring, angry and relieved and that was a feat not easily managed.

“Was raiding the fridge before you got down and he decided to knock you out.” Even though the conversation seemed to progress normally, Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling something was amiss.

“I think he was one of them,” a pause followed, where the Sheriff collected his thoughts.

“I think he was one of them.”

“One of them?”

Seriously, if this headache didn’t stop trying to make his skull explode, Stiles would trash something.

“Infected.”

“Ah.”

Ah indeed. That would actually make a lot of sense, Stiles had to admit. He had been wondering, in the minutes it took for him to leave his bed, whether another manic was running around in his house.

Should have been a bit more careful, then, he said to himself.

“Took three deputies and a taser to keep him from hitting you again.” Judging by the shiver that went through his father, Stiles assumed it had been a sight no easily beheld.

“Oh, and you should call Derek,” the Sheriff decided to mention randomly, like it didn’t make Stiles flash hot and cold all over. The feeling of Derek’s lips against his was pushed to the forefront of his mind. His cheeks heated up at the mere memory.

“Why would I need to call Derek?”

Nonchalant. Just act nonchalant. It’s not awkward if you don’t make it awkward.

“Because I told him what happened.” Yep. That was a grin on his father’s face, and a mischievous one at that.

“And why would you do that?” He couldn’t help his voice slowly climbing two octaves upwards. Not even coughing remedied that. His father though, didn’t answer and simply raised an expressive eyebrow.

“I’m not the Sheriff for nothing, you know?”

Stiles spluttered, trying desperately to come up with something, anything to stop this conversation from going into the direction it was currently steering towards.

“You can talk to me,” a meaningful look was passed from one of the kitchen’s inhabitants to the other “about anything.”

“I know, Dad.” Stiles was quick to answer. And he really did. But he didn’t like putting something into words that didn’t even have a name yet.

His father seemed to realise this because he dropped the subject- thankfully- and handed Stiles his phone.

“Melissa said you can go back to sleep but if you feel ill or anything else is wrong, I want you to come and tell me, understood?” There was a firm tone in his Dad’s voice, speaking of urgency. Stiles agreed, knowing full well how badly situations like this could end if not treated cautiously.

On the stairs, he halted for just a moment, contemplating returning to the kitchen and spilling the beans but ultimately deciding against it.

It took a lot of courage for him, which he didn’t know where he suddenly pulled it from, to call Derek. The wolf picked up after the first ring, proving Stiles’ suspicion that he had been waiting for the call.

“Stiles? How are you?” Stiles immediately detected the underlaying worry in Derek’s voice and put the guy out of his misery.

“All good. Melissa said I just need some rest.” The sigh of relief on the other end was audible.

“Good.”

See, Stiles was well aware that Derek wasn’t a great conversationalist, certainly not at half past three in the morning, but this was, even for him, subpar.

“Sorry my Dad called you.” Stiles blurted out, just to say anything.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

They lapsed into silence again. It must have been several minutes of intense non-talking from either party, when Stiles coughed.

“So, errr- I think I’m going to bed now, so…” He scratched his head, forgetting briefly, about the tape covering the small cut there. Suddenly remembering it, he almost broke his neck trying to see in the mirror if the bandage had loosened.

“Wait-“ Derek said.

Stiles waited. Patiently. For a minute.

Or at least a few seconds before asking:

“Yes?”

“Do you- are you really alright? I can- if you want, I mean- I can come over…” The longer he went on, the quieter he got, trailing off in the end. Stiles could picture him, walking up and down in the loft, probably growling under his breath in that way that was so distinctly Derek.

Wait a minute.

_Replay._

Hadn’t Derek just asked him a question?

“Yeah sure, if you want?” Stiles answered before his brain caught up with his head. When it did though, he realised what he had just agreed to and promptly bit his tongue.

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes,” Derek said and the call was disconnected before Stiles could ask how he would be able to manage the distance between their houses in such a short amount of time. Then he remembered that Derek was indeed a werewolf and thoroughly capable of running fast enough to make it here by that time.

The knock on the window came entirely too early for Stiles to have prepared himself. He was, in fact, so far in his head that he almost missed it.

“Stiles?” A soft voice carried through his layer of thoughts, containing Derek, Derek’s hands and, most prominently Derek’s lips. 

“Sorry,” he said upon being ripped out of his trance.

“What were you thinking about? Your heart’s beating very fast.” Derek didn’t waste any time to make Stiles feel like he was under the microscope.

“Nothing-“ Stiles says before thinking better of it, then rambles on, just quick enough for Derek not to pick up on the lie.

“Thanks for coming by.”

“Show me?” Derek requested, turning Stiles around until his back faced him.

“Does it still hurt?” Stiles nodded, muted against Derek’s touch.

“I can’t take it away this time,” the wolf traced patterns on Stiles’ neck, seemingly distracted with the long, pale skin there.

“I know…” Stiles murmured, “’s not why I called.”

Derek’s grip tightened briefly. He said: “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it.”

Stiles wasn’t all too sure but he would bet good money this wasn’t Derek’s finger but his claw against his neck.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Derek was suddenly a hell of a lot closer, mumbling into Stiles’ neck so that his breath tickled Stiles’ ear. 

“’m not…” Stiles had a hard time not leaning back against Derek. His breath was laboured, his eyes fluttered close.

“Just aches a little.”

“Still.”

And then Derek’s finger was gone, replaced with his lips and Stiles nearly jumped at the contact. Strong hands pulled him back, until he collided with Derek’s solid chest. Soft kisses wandered from his ear to the base of his neck and up again, leaving a wet trail in their wake that made Stiles shiver. He reached back, taking Derek’s hand where it rested against his chest and pulling it so that it lay on his waist.

Derek did what Stiles hoped he would and tightened his grip. The sharpness of pain shot through him, making him tingly all over. He had trouble to keep upright. Derek seemed to realise that and lowered them both down until they were sitting on Stiles’ bed.

A sudden pause startled Stiles.

“What?”

But instead of an answer, Derek turned him around, so fast Stiles feared for whiplash, and pressed his lips against Stiles’ in a bruising kiss. Teeth mingled with tongue, claws traced the lean muscles under Stiles’ shirt, grazed his nipples and tightened around his throat. Stiles couldn’t suppress the groan escaping from his mouth and watched in fascination as Derek growled and surged forward again. The force of the movement made Stiles fall back against the bed, hitting his head, thankfully on the pillow. Derek was on him in an instant, devouring his lips with his own.

Burning kisses rained down on Stiles, who tried to reciprocate as best as he could.

It was the exact moment, Stiles’ hand touched the triskelion on Derek’s back when the wolf withdrew. In the matter of seconds, Derek had brought some distance between them, sliding to the edge of the bed and breathing fast.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles wanted to ask, but it came out as a croak. Derek didn’t answer.

“Derek?” Stiles reached out and touched his hand. It seemed to shock Derek out of whatever thoughts he was thinking.

“Sorry,” Derek mumbled, not meeting Stiles’ eye.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t want-“ he paused, staring at the ground “I didn’t mean…”

Stiles’ insecurities filled the void with a version of its own truth, telling him what Derek wasn’t saying. He flinched once the hidden meaning registered, tried to bring even more distance between them.

“Yeah, no. Sorry. I get it.”

Lie, he thought bitterly to himself.

It had felt so good. To him at least.

He had no idea why Derek would react this way and it hurt to think it was because Stiles didn’t really know what he was doing.

“No- that’s not…” Once again, Derek didn’t finish his sentence. Maybe it was better this way, Stiles thought to himself. At least now, he’d be spared the humiliation of hearing those words.

That Derek obviously didn’t enjoy kissing Stiles as much as Stiles did kissing Derek.

That was fine.

Everything was fine.

Not like Stiles had fantasised about this moment and Derek’s lips on his for the past years and counting. Not like Stiles’ heart was ready to burst at the sting of rejection. That didn’t mean anything.

Not at all.

A hand on his chin, lifting it up, ripped him out of the hole he had buried himself in. Derek had scooted closer again, seemingly not that averse to touching him anymore. His gaze held a certain pain that made Stiles want to look away. He couldn’t, however, entranced by the green in Derek’s eyes.

“You’re wrong.” Derek whispered. Stiles recoiled, shifted away but was held back by Derek gripping his arm too tightly.

“Let go!” But Derek didn’t budge. He forced Stiles to look up, fingers curled around his chin.“You’re wrong. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true.”

“How can you say that?” Stiles’ voice pitched higher than it usually did. He tried to reign in the hysterical tone but couldn’t quite manage. He fought against Derek’s hand, not wanting to hear whatever it was Derek wanted to say. It wouldn’t be good, he just knew it.

“Because you smell like rejection!” Derek bellowed, eyes flashing red. Stiles immediately stilled.

Derek used the sudden lack of movement, let go of Stiles’ arms and pulled him forward by his shoulder instead.

“This is not rejection. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, alright? I am not rejecting you.”

_As if._

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re just saying that so you won’t hurt me.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“It’s okay. I can take it. Just tell me and we can move on.”

“There is nothing to move on from. Don’t you understand?” Even Derek seemed exasperated now.

 _Good,_ a mean little voice in his head sniggered.

Stiles hated to be the only one.

“Then why-“

Derek interrupted him: “Why did I stop?”

“Yes!” Stiles threw his hands in the air, flailing around because the word didn’t express his frustration, his hurt, enough.

Something clicked in Derek’s jaw. He burst out: “Because it’s too fast!”

Silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and loaded with unspoken feelings. Stiles, not for once but it was a rare occurrence anyway, was speechless, unsure what to say. Of all the things, he hadn’t anticipated that.

“I don’t-“ it came out trembling, unstable “What do you mean?”

Derek didn’t answer right away. He stared at his own feet, shuffled with them. Finally, after what felt like an hour, he looked up, eyes pained and full of something Stiles hadn’t seen in a long time. He remembered Derek looking at Kate that way, at Jennifer.

His stomach rebelled.

He made it to the bin just in time.

Derek was by his side in an instant, hand on his back while he puked his guts out.

Stiles wasn’t proud of the reaction. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he sat back down on the bed, still a little jittery.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, embarrassment hitting a new high. He wanted the ground to open up. Even if it was an overused metaphor.

“Why- Stiles, what-“ Derek, as often the case, was apparently at a loss for words.

Stiles thought it over, then decided to go with: “I don’t want to be like them.”

“Like who?”

He hated even saying their names.

Derek’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

“Why do you always deliberately misunderstand me?” An air of slight annoyance surrounded him. He continued to talk but to Stiles it sounded as if to himself and not to Stiles.

“You make up the worst scenario you can think of and run with it.”

Now, Stiles was officially lost. The hurt had been replaced swiftly with confusion while the disgust in himself still remained strong.

“I don’t understand.”

That would sum up the whole evening rather well.

“You’re not like them. Not one bit, alright? That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Derek? Because there aren’t that many options and I’m really tired of guessing.”

One second of silence and then Derek bellowed: “Kissing!”

Alright.

What?

“I- with them it was always about the- the uh physical side. And I thought, I was ready but then I lost myself in it and I know that you’re nothing like them but I just- it keeps replaying in my mind…”

Stiles detected a faint sense of helplessness in Derek’s demeanour.

“Why didn’t you say something? We didn’t- I didn’t need-“

“I know, _you_ didn’t need. But it felt right and then it- it escalated a bit and I kept thinking that it’d end up just like…” He made a vague hand gesture that Stiles had no problem interpreting.

“Like them,” he concluded, heart in his throat.

“Derek, I wouldn’t ever-“

“I know!” Derek spat out as if the words were something foul in his mouth.

“I know that!” Derek hit the nightstand, making it wobble on its legs. The sound was loud in Stiles’ ears but he didn’t shrink away from it.

“Then what’s the problem?” Stiles yelled right back.

“I-“

A third voice suddenly popped up, asking: “Stiles?”

Stiles quickly looked at the door, which was closed, thank God. Once he returned his gaze to where Derek was sitting, he found the place deserted. The window, though, was wide open and in the distance, he heard a howl.

That could have gone better, he thought to himself while telling his father that everything was alright, that his head didn’t bother him anymore and that they’d talk in the morning. Back in his bed, he thought the last hour over, reaching the conclusion that Derek wasn’t ready to be with him. It stung, he was not going to lie. But there was a significant difference between Derek not being ready and Derek not wanting to be with him.

At least, that’s what Stiles told himself when sleep knocked on his door.

* * *

The next morning, after having that dreaded talk with his father, Stiles joined him on the way to the precinct. A haggard figure awaited him in a holding cell, looking strung out and too thin to be healthy. Stiles sat down beside him, voice soft and asked what needed clarification.

“Was passing by, you know? Saw the house was dark.” Stiles urged the man to go on.

“Woman came by then- ginger. Told me to just go in.” The guy scratched his head, hair sticking out in all directions, like it did when it hadn’t been washed for a long time.

“So you went in? Just like that?”

“Was so angry. Couldn’t think straight.” The man’s eyes kept wandering, not fixing on one point as if he wasn’t wholly there.

“Saw you had a nice house and just wanted to take. You know? ‘Cause I don’t have that. And. thought- thought to myself: Pete. Why don’ you go in, ha? You deserve a house like tha’ too, Pete. And then I went in. And you-“ he gestured vaguely around

“You came down and I heard you and I wanted to make you hurt, ya’ know? Like I do. Wanted to hurt you like I do, ‘cause that’s the way it’s supposed to be, ya’ know? Fair.”

He started rocking back and forth, speech slurring.

“’s not fair. All you have!” Stiles noticed his eyes becoming glassy. He stood up.

“I don’t have anything- anything- anything.” The guy- Pete- kept rambling on the same sentence, over and over again. It frightened Stiles. He knocked on the door to be let out, glad when it closed behind him.

On the way back, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. At least, he knew it was Wrath’s doing. But the effect she had had on Pete, the things she had made him feel, they were what fuelled the worry in Stiles’ chest.

* * *

Derek hadn’t really talked to Stiles beyond small-talk, clearing out of every room once Stiles walked in. It would have hurt, if not for the fear on Derek’s face whenever Stiles caught a glimpse of him in passing. That all changed though, when Stiles got a call to come to the loft asap. He hurried, fully aware that Derek wouldn’t word a summoning like that if it were a trivial matter.

The sight he stumbled upon when entering, Stiles would never forget. Isaac sat on the couch, soaked in blood, his blonde curls almost unrecognisable because of the red fluid covering them.

“What happened?” His voice came out breathy. Derek emerged then, from the bathroom, carrying a bowl of water and sat down beside Isaac. His eyes met Stiles’ and the latter almost took a step back by the flood of emotion he saw in them. There was anger, worry, relief, all lined up.

“Got jumped at uni.” Isaac pressed out. He looked furious, fists trembling where he was clenching them against his sides.

“Football team. Must have drunk a lot. Almost couldn’t get up.” He ripped his shirt off, showing Stiles the black and purple bruises that still weren’t healed. It told Stiles all he needed to know about the severity of the assault. Isaac flinched where Derek dabbed at his chest, discovering cuts where the kicks had been hard enough to break the skin. Stiles was left fuming, a deep rage bubbling just underneath the surface.

“Help me?” Derek asked softly from where he was still trying to wash the blood of Isaac’s body.

But Stiles couldn’t.

He just couldn’t. Frozen in the doorframe and caught in the image of Isaac being bloody and beaten by his father, the Argents, monster after monster.

Something snapped inside him then, making tears flow over. He wasn’t ashamed of them, just kept thinking: why always Isaac? Had the guy not been hurt enough? Was this really what the universe, or whatever entity was up there, had in store for him? For the guy, who had overcome the worst of abuse and still stood strong against his enemies?

Stiles was angry.

He was so, so angry.

Because Isaac didn’t deserve it. And if it took Stiles killing all those demons and their godforsaken boss by himself with only a baseball bat in hand, then so be it. He’d go to hell for the kid and back if it meant not ever having to watch Isaac flinch at a touch ever again.

“Stiles?” It was the hurt in Isaac’s voice that made him breathe in, made him reconsider, pause.

“Please.” It wasn’t a question but Stiles heard the underlaying need. He went over, still fuming, still angry, but it vanished once Isaac’s eyes met his. Derek gave him another sponge. They went to work quietly.

Isaac managed to fall asleep not shortly after, snoring lightly where he was cuddling a pillow. A flicker of hope ignited itself at the sight, that maybe, just maybe, the pup would be able to leave all this behind him, to move on from it and never look back.

“We’ll get them.” Derek spoke up, softly so that Isaac wouldn’t wake.

“The demon?”

“All of them.” The Alpha said around long teeth.

And Stiles saw his own determination reflected in his eyes, holding a promise that Stiles knew he would fulfil.

* * *

The caller-ID should have warned him but Stiles had hit accept before really looking. Jackson’s growl greeted him immediately.

“If you don’t help me out of this perpetual misery, I will haunt you to the day you die and in the afterlife. So, get your ass in the car and pick me up, Stilinski, before I get really angry.”

Stiles was already out of the door by the time Jackson had spat out the word “misery” with more venom in his voice than in his teeth. He was fully aware of how dangerous Jackson could get once he lost control. And he sounded damn close to that state. So, Stiles did what every person with a functioning brain would do: he hopped in his car, hit the gas and rushed to the wolf in question.

He reached him just in time to witness a dressing-down par excellence. Jackson had obviously been involved into a brawl, apparently over a jock saying something homophobic to a friend of his. For just a second, Stiles allowed himself to be proud of the wolf, then his common sense kicked in and he pulled Jackson out of the school and shoved him into the car.

“What’s going on? You haven’t lost it that bad in-“

“Just drive,” Jackson snarled, not even looking at Stiles. The latter got the message, kept his mouth shut until he reached Jackson’s flat and trotted behind the other as to not get on his nerves any more than necessary.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I was fine one minute, but then this idiot came up to me and- I don’t know…” Jackson finally said once he was seated on his bed, head in his hands and not looking up.

“And what?” Stiles gently coerced with dread in his stomach. He feared to hear a certain demon’s name after that pause.

“He bumped into me on the field, like, he did it deliberately and I heard my bone crack-” Jackson hissed through his teeth.

“I lost it! He’s such a dumbass. I’d been out of the season if my healing hadn’t kicked in! You don’t just run around bumping into people!”

“But you’re not! It’s all fine, nothing happened, your shoulder is good and you’re not out for the season. So, calm down!” Stiles had to interfere here, otherwise, Jackson would talk himself into a rage that neither would be able to contain.

The wolf’s nostrils flared, his eyes fixed on a point to Stiles’ left and gave it one hell of a death stare. He didn’t know how Jackson managed to find his cool after that close call, but he was glad he had. Angry Jackson was not something anyone wanted to deal with, especially not, when his anger was justified.

“Do you want something to eat? I can order-“

Jackson didn’t let him finish the thought.

“No,” he snapped. Stiles shrugged, not bothered by the brash attitude.

“Just- can you just talk to me?”

“You hate when I talk…” Stiles muttered, but was already searching his brain for a story to tell. While his attention was elsewhere, he still caught Jackson’s mumbled answer that sounded dangerously close to a “please”.

It took a good while to distract Jackson from going up the walls, but Stiles manged it quite alright, if he said so himself. Still, he couldn’t help the wheels from turning in his head. While Jackson was, without doubt, one of the angriest people Stiles had ever encountered, this was unusual even for him. Connecting the dots after that revelation was fairly easy. Talking to Jackson about it, was decidedly not.

“So, you’re absolutely sure she hasn’t touched you? Red hair, red everything, kinda petite?”

“Yes, Stiles! I’m sure!” Jackson huffed, for the, what must have been hundredth time. Stiles knew he was on thin ice here but he needed to ask anyway.

“But you’re affected,” Stiles said carefully, watching Jackson scowl.

“I get that! But I haven’t touched anyone and nobody has touched me so cut it out!”

“Then why are you affected?” Stiles couldn’t stop the frustration from seeping into his voice. Even though it wasn’t helping matters.

Jackson snapped back just as agitated: “I don’t know that! You’re the genius! You figure it out!”

Stiles huffed, rolled his eyes. How was he supposed to figure this out? It’s not like there was a manual where he could look up Wrath under register A column B.

“Maybe…” he let the thought travel. An idea had formed in his head, not fully fledged yet but there nonetheless.

“Maybe,” he stared again “She’s stronger than the others. We know that. So, what if her influence is stronger too?”

And suddenly the tension in the air was lifted, replaced with eagerness and a feeling of having finally reached a conclusion.

“That-“ Jackson nodded “Is not the worst theory I’ve heard.”

Considering the wolf’s current mental state, his overall lack of positivity and complete inability to give compliments, Stiles took it as high praise.

“You can’t touch her! I mean it,” he tried to convey his seriousness, the urgency that had overcome him at even the thought of Jackson being touched by the last sin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know!”

“No, you don’t! You’re not taking this seriously!” Because Stiles knew the shrug Jackson gave to be highly dismissive. He was decidedly too nonchalant about all of this and it was eating Stiles up.

“She’s just a demon!”

“She’s the last demon! The strongest one! We don’t know what she can do, how she’ll affect you! And if it’s true what all the others have said, she’ll come to you! Because you’re a beacon for her!

“Watch your mouth!”

But Stiles was already going on, not the least bit concerned about stepping on the wolf’s toes.

“Like Envy was after me! She’ll come for you! And that can’t happen!”

“I’ll just kill her!”

“What if you don’t? We can’t risk that! If she has you, she has the Kanima!”

It made Jackson pause. The threat hung in the air between them, clouding the living room with fear.

“What do you mean?”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he was right, if that was what it would come down to, but he had a strong feeling about it. So strong in fact, that he couldn’t afford withholding information simply to spare Jackson’s feelings.

“If you go into full rage mode, you’ll be unstoppable. The Kanima, that part of you, it’s accessed by anger. That’s what triggers it. So, if she does- trigger it, I mean- then you’re hers. And she’ll have full control.”

The words made Jackson shrink back, a haunted expression passing over his face. Stiles remembered having seen that look a few times before. He hated having put it there.

“What do you think I should do?” The question was soft, genuine and laced with, at the very least, worry.

“We’ll make up a plan. Kill her before she gets to you. Watch over you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Jackson bit out, sounding every bit the arrogant ass that he hadn’t been for a long time.

“You need your pack.” Stiles countered with.

* * *

The Babysitting-Jackson-protocol, BJP for short, was quickly made up. Derek had spoken a final word, shutting up the growl Jackson’s throat had threatened to let loose. First was Boyd, then Lydia, Erica would be next, then Stiles, Scott, then Derek and lastly Isaac before continuing with the cycle. Jackson only huffed and puffed but ultimately didn’t dare disagree.

Fortunately for them, the plan seemed to work rather brilliantly. Wrath hadn’t made an appearance at Jackson’s house or any of the others and the pack was beginning to calm down a little. Closing the ranks had been a wise tactic so far and Stiles was proud to have contributed to that.

Meanwhile, Jackson was climbing up the walls. He hated being monitored, referring to it as if having a constant shadow looking over his shoulder, with no private time or minute alone. As it was, once Stiles’ turn came around, the wolf was more irritated than after the encounter with the lacrosse players. Stiles tried his best to make himself scarce, only popping in twice to ask about lunch and dinner respectively. With good conscience, he transferred the heavy responsibility of not only watching over Jackson, but keeping his mood from dropping even further, to Scott.

His best friend greeted them on his doorstep with an inviting smile that Jackson ignored and offered the Kanima the couch. If looks could kill, Stiles was sure, Scott would have fallen over like a puppet, whose strings were cut. Jackson didn’t say goodbye, threw himself onto the couch and buried his face in the pillow, not acknowledging Scott’s attempts at being a good host.

It should have sent some warning bells off in Stiles’ head that Jackson had not even tried to escape their watchful eyes once. That alone should have been an indicator that something was about to happen, but Stiles remained blissfully oblivious.

That was until his phone rang, two nights into Scott’s turn.

“Come get me!” A heavily breathing Jackson bit out. Stiles rubbed his eyes, and realised, after quickly checking the clock on the nightstand, that it was 5.00 in the morning.

“What?”

“Get me! I’m at uni!”

Running. That was definitely Jackson running.

What was going on? 

It needed a minute for Stiles’ brain to come online. But when it finally did, all the wires in there lit up with electricity. A door closed softly on Jackson’s side of the call.

Something was wrong.

Jackson spared him from having to puzzle it out: “Someone’s,” his voice had gone quiet, as if he was afraid he would be heard.

“Someone is here with me.”

Stiles was in his car in the matter of seconds, hitting the gas hard enough to almost break the pedal.

He had had a vague idea once Jackson had blown up about that jock hitting his shoulder and he had hoped so desperately to be wrong. But even before Jackson finally spat out a description of the figure hunting him through the university campus, Stiles had figured it out by himself. His doubts had already vanished, one by one. There was really only one thing that would behave like that, hunt the wolf like that and Stiles should have seen it coming from the beginning.

It was so obvious.

Stiles felt dumb, all of sudden, remembering their conversation from when Jackson had feared to be infected by pride. He couldn’t help shake his head at himself. How stupid they had been then.

How could it have been any sin, any demon, but Wrath?

And now, listening to the wolf run for his life on the other end of a phone call, Stiles cursed himself for not having been quicker on the uptake. Jackson had shown obvious signs of being infected already, why wouldn’t he come to wherever Wrath wanted him? Of course, he’d leave Scott’s protection once he had the chance. Lydia had been pulled out by Greed, so was it really so far-fetched to think Wrath had a similar power?

Minutes later, Stiles stormed in, running to where Jackson had directed him as fast as he could. His inner turmoil only got worse when he rounded a corner and collided with something hard.

“What-“ his breath was punched out of his lungs and he fell over. And right onto Derek.

“He’s in the other direction. I can hear him growling.” The Alpha was on his feet before Stiles could even react.

“Come on!” Derek quickly hauled Stiles up and speed in the other direction.

And now, Stiles could hear it too. A growl that he identified as belonging to Jackson, even if it had a sort of helplessness to it that went against everything Jackson stood for, and a laugh, more terrifying than any sound Jackson could ever make. Derek kicked open the door separating them from the noise. The image with which they were met let Stiles stumble.

“The cavalry has arrived I see.” Stiles should have been prepared but facing her now, it turned out, he was not. Red overwhelmed his senses and even he could feel the impact she had. Jackson though, poor Jackson, was crouched down, blood dripping from his nose where he had undoubtedly burst a vessel. Slashes that weren’t healing ran all over his shoulders, his chest, every part of him not covered by his jeans that Stiles could see. Blue eyes gleamed in the dark but their light was dimmed by the fear inside them. Derek, whom Stiles had briefly forgotten about, took one step forward, fangs out and claws ready.

He wasn’t lucky enough to take another.

Because Jackson hauled himself into the way, blocking Derek from Wrath before either of the others had even had a chance to move. Stiles didn’t have time to be confused about it, watching in horror as Wrath clamped her hand around Jackson’s shoulder. The wolf howled in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. Stiles reached out, wanting to help but unsure how to.

Once more, Derek was approaching.

Once more Jackson refused to let him.

“Jackson!” Derek growled around the fangs in his mouth.

“Get away from me!” Jackson breathed out, exhaustion visible in his every fibre.

Derek wouldn’t have it: “I’m your Alpha!” he bellowed and Stiles watched Jackson flinch.

“I won’t-“ Jackson coughed around the blood on his tongue.

“I won’t let you die for me!”

Jackson fought against Wrath’s grip on him but didn’t manage to get out of it.

“That is enough!” She pulled his hair back, exposing his throat. A clawed finger traced the vein there.

“I could kill you now, you know? Collect your soul for my Master.” She pushed him forward, ripping the skin wherever she touched it.

“But I won’t. You’re just too much fun to pass up.”

Pang.

Everyone in the room stared at Stiles. The gun in his hands didn’t shake. Wrath’s lips curled into a vicious smile. She stepped closer.

“And what do we have here? The little boy that killed my sister. Such a loud mouth you are. I’ve heard so much about you.” She nodded towards his gun.

“But never have I heard about your stupidity!”

Stiles felt the wall hit his back. The others in the room seemed frozen in place.

“Did no one ever tell you, kid- to hit your target once you shoot?” Her grin was more teeth than anything else. Stiles fired again. The bullet hit her in the chest but her frame didn’t even flicker.

His heart beat faster, sweat collected on his upper lip. There was nowhere to go, no escape. Frantically, he looked for a way out, but found none.

A long red nail, more claw than anything, reached out to him, scraping his shirt before trailing upwards. Stiles braced for the impact of Wrath to hit him.

But nothing came.

He opened his eyes. And saw Jackson dragging Wrath away by her hair. She fought tooth and nail but he had a good grip on her. At least for the short moment it took for Derek to jump between Stiles and her and make up a protective barrier. 

“You’ll pay for that, Kanima!” The demon screeched. She ripped his hand away, a loud crack sounding through the room, shoved him back and bashed in the window. Before anyone could stop her, she had jumped out, her maniac laughter echoing around them.

Jackson fell to his knees the second she was gone. Derek assured himself that Stiles was alright before crouching down in front of his injured Beta. He softly reached for Jackson’s hand and put it back straight. Jackson clenched his eyes shut, suppressing a growl at the sharp snap of pain.

“Why wouldn’t you let me help?” Stiles heard the Alpha murmured. Stiles stepped closer too, anxious to hear the answer.

“Because she,” he paused to breathe through his wounds closing slowly

“She- she told me ugh,” Stiles flinched at painful exclamation

“when she locked me in here-“ the tears in Jackson’s eyes gave them a glow that Stiles wanted to see gone.

“that you’d be affected too if she touched you.”

Derek, apparently, didn’t have an answer for that.

“Never do that again,” he decided to go with, instead of, what Stiles though twould have been more appropriate: a thank you.

“I’m your Alpha. It’s my job to protect you.” he paused “And I don’t ever want to see you put yourself in front of me again.” Derek’s tone was firm but his voice was soft. It was an odd mix, Stiles had to admit but it reflected their relationship perfectly. Derek sent out a call to the others of the pack, reaching Scott first since he had woken up to find Jackson missing from his house and was now running in circles. Lydia though, was the only one they asked to come over, thinking there was a possibility of her presence acting as a calming effect on Jackson.

By sheer miracle and combining forces, they managed to get the injured wolf into Stiles’ Jeep. Jackson didn’t complain, which was a sure sign he wasn’t a hundred percent yet. And, if Stiles was right, wouldn’t be for quite some time.

They reached the loft just when Jackson started to breathe heavily again. Stiles noticed that his eyes wouldn’t focus and he motioned for Derek to help the other up the stairs.

Jackson couldn’t stand on his own anymore, whimpering every once in a while. Stiles was seriously concerned, worried even, knowing the impact Envy had had on him and guessing what it was doing to Jackson now. Once inside the flat, Jackson pushed them away, hiding in a corner where no light reached him.

He began rocking back and forth, mumbling something neither Derek and Stiles couldn’t make out.

Stiles did, however, hear a name thrown into the mix, whose mention made him sink down beside the wolf and try with all his might to break him out of that mindset he was caught in.

But Jackson covered his ears with his hands. Stiles tried to pull them away, to talk to the wolf. He was shoved back and Jackson started a mantra of broken sounds, whimpering:

“No! Make it stop! No, no, no, no!” over and over again. When faced with Jackson’s utter terror, Stiles felt helpless.

“Jackson- damn it! Listen to me!”

“NO! Please no!”

“JACKSON!” Derek roared, making everyone in the room shrink back. Jackson shook his head, refused to look up.

“She’s playing you,” Stiles crouched down in front of Jackson, saw him flinch away from his touch.

He had to get through to him, to break that barrier inside his head so that he would snap out of it.

“Listen to me! She’s playing your mind! The things you’re seeing…” he forced Jackson’s chin up “They are not _real_!”

A fleeting expression flashed over Jackson’s face that made Stiles pause.

“Jackson?” He had trouble keeping eye contact “Jackson, what are you seeing?”

Stiles had a vague inkling, a hypothesis at best and he prayed to every entity that might be listening to be wrong. Just this once.

Jackson moved then, leaning in closely and whispered one word, only one: “Matt…”

And instantly, Stiles knew why he was in shambles. Because, Jackson wasn’t hallucinating.

“She’s showing you the past…” The sentence stayed in the air like something suspended in time, hovering over the pack almost like a veil.  
Jackson gave a clip nod and resumed rocking back and forth.

Derek, who had been sitting on the edge of the couch, balled his hands to fists in an effort not to reach out to Jackson. Nobody knew how the wolf would react to extensive touch right now. Somewhere in the corner, Lydia stared at her boyfriend through empty eyes. Maybe she had forgotten how hard reality had hit him after becoming a full-fleshed wolf and joining the pack. She didn’t let her eyes off him, not once, instead tracking every movement of his body.

Stiles recognised that behaviour as something protective and wanted to assure her that Jackson would get better, but that would be a lie.

When he left, after finally calming Jackson down to a level where the wolf sunk down in his bed, dead to the world after exhausting himself, Stiles’ need to find and kill Wrath was stronger than ever.

* * *

Not a day later, Jackson was still fighting his demons on his own, some hours being easier than others, Derek and Stiles were situated in Stiles’ living room, the loft being currently used as a Jackson holding cell, or sanatorium, whichever you prefer.

Derek had arrived with an irritated air around him. Maybe, Stiles figured, it was due to being in such close proximity to Jackson, who was radiating anger.

“Any other footage?” Derek had asked upon entering, without a greeting. Stiles ignored the sudden impoliteness and went on to inform Derek of the five bodies in the morgue that had come in since yesterday morning. They shared a frustrated sigh.

Stiles tipped around the question of Jackson’s mind state for what felt like eternity, but he had to ask some time and when he did, Derek punched the table.

“He can’t sit still. Keeps talking about Gerard and the people he’s killed. I can’t hear it anymore.”

Stiles recognised the signs even when Derek didn’t. The anger, Jackson’s anger, flared up inside the Alpha, stronger than should be possible and still so palpable. Derek seemed to tremble with all the barely concealed rage, breathing in through his opened mouth. His eyes flashed from green to red to green and back again, signalling how very close to the surface his anger truly was.

Stiles had to interfere, knowing full well how emerged Derek got into that emotion that had for such a long time been his anchor.

“It’s the bond! It’s not you, just the bond! Calm down!”

He put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, watching in fascination as the wolf tried to calm himself.

“Breathe in! Come on, Derek! This isn’t you. It’s Jackson. You just feel it stronger because you’re his Alpha. Remember? We talked about this! You felt my envy too and Boyd’s sloth and Erica’s lust. Even if you couldn’t name it at the time, you still felt it.”

He had to do something, to take Derek’s mind of the wrath burning so clearly inside him.

“I didn’t drive to Boyd’s myself when he wouldn’t come to work!” Derek spat out, recalling their earlier discussion as if repeating his mistakes would give him back a sense of structure. Now, Stiles just needed to keep the wolf’s focus on the facts and push down the rage clouding his judgment. 

“You just wouldn’t talk to Lucas, wouldn’t even look at him.”

While they had talked about Derek’s moods before, they had wisely let out a few significant points. Like his obvious pride when Lucas was concerned. Now though, it seemed as if that caution had flown out of the window. Stiles was secretly glad. He had wondered and tossed and turned about this for such a long time that answers were much appreciated.

“I needed you close- I just couldn’t let you go that night, you remember?”

“And you took me out to dinner when Gluttony was around.”

“That pack night, when Lucas- when he was kissing you, I wanted to be the one. I wanted you so badly-“

Stiles couldn’t help digging his heels into that confession: “It wasn’t the oil, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t the oil.”

“What about greed? You didn’t seem greedy to me?”

“No but I felt Lydia’s. I wanted to have your attention. I needed more, always more. I couldn’t let go of you. I was just never satisfied with what I had…”

“Derek-“

“I’m angry all the time. If I had to choose one it would always have been wrath.”

“But it’s not you, it’s the bond. You knew Jackson was in danger when he was at uni, not just because he called but because you felt him flip the switch through the pack bond.”

Derek, who had considerably calmed down after revisiting his past emotions, shuffled his feet- an adorable contrast to his deadly claws a moment before.

“I’m still not sure…”

“About what?”

“If it’s just Jackson’s rage or my own. I can’t distinguish it. At least not a hundred percent.”

“So, it’s different to the others?”

“No- not really? I don’t know…”

“Is it stronger? Or just more consuming?”

“More consuming, I think…” 

Stiles couldn’t help thinking back to the conversation he had had with Derek and almost, almost had to bite down on a laugh. Hoping stupidly that no one would be infected when all things pointed to a double.

* * *

The breakthrough came slowly, but when it did come. And Stiles was almost vibrating with excitement once it did. They had seen Wrath enter an abandoned mansion just on the side of the river flowing into Beacon Hills.

By some miracle or other, Boyd of all people had spied her on a grocery run and had, quick to think as he was, tracked her. Now, the whole pack, minus Jackson who was still watching his past mistakes play on a loop, was assembled, strategy and an arsenal of weapons on their hands.

They entered as silently as they could, from different angles. Some, like Scott, through the window, while Derek and Stiles came in through the basement. Allison had her bow at the ready, pointing it at everything that moved. They met in the living room, all of them together, confused and a bit unsettled by the empty house when the demon was sure to be in here. It occurred to Stiles then, that there was one reason and one reason only why they were assembled here.

Fuck.

It was a trap. She wouldn’t have been found if she didn’t want to be. And that she had been meant that she had a trump up her sleeve.

“Get out!” Stiles yelled, sprinting to the door. But before he could even touch the nob, he was flung back.

Wrath appeared in the doorframe, the mantle of invisibility slowly fading away, grinning from ear to ear.

“Welcome,” she made a hand gesture that was a cruel imitation of an invitation “to your death.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Stiles snorted.

Dramatic much?

Stiles felt the others tense by his side, Allison’s bowstring was being pulled tight and Lydia undid the safety of her gun. Derek, where he was pressed against Stiles brought a bit of distance between them. Wrath didn’t seem fazed by the ensemble glaring at her. Rather the opposite.

Stiles barely had time to think about what that lack of seriousness meant, when a figure appeared in the doorway that Wrath had just abandoned to walk towards the opposite wall. Derek pulled Stiles behind him before anyone else could react. He had recognised the figure before the rest of the pack, if by scent or the frantic beat of his heart was unclear. Stiles gasped when he too saw who had entered. 

“What are you doing here? I told you to stay home! This was an order, Jackson!” Derek barked, worry apparent in his voice but only to the people who knew how to look for it.

“This isn’t _your_ demon!” Jackson snarled, eyes never leaving Wrath. She grinned at them, not the least bit concerned. Stiles thought for a moment, for but a moment really, that maybe Jackson was wrong. Maybe, it was both of their demon. Meanwhile, the creature clearly enjoyed having at least one of her victims so close.

Jackson stepped forward, gaze flickering to his right twice. When Boyd blocked his way, arms stretched out, as if to stop him, Jackson pushed him away, seething:

“Get out of my way!”

Once more, Jackson’s focus shifted and Stiles finally realised why that was.

He gasped. “You’re still seeing them!”

About three different voices screeched: “What?”

Derek made a step in his direction but Stiles held him back.

“You can’t do this! Not if you’re still seeing them!” Lydia whispered, sounding vulnerable and scared.

Her voice carried all the way to the entry, without increasing in volume, seemingly wrapping around Jackson like a protective aura.

“Please…”

For just a second, it looked as if Jackson halted, his eyes turning to their normal green colour. But the moment didn’t last. Just as fast, his eyes turned back to vibrant blue, gleaming threateningly in the darkness.

Wrath laughed at that display.

Jackson approached.

Stiles stepped forward.

And suddenly, he was blind.

It lasted but a second. Once his eyes regained sight, they fixed on the red figure in front of him, suddenly much closer than she had been before. Stiles charged without a second thought, throwing himself at her and punching at everything he could reach. Fists flew, nails pulled his hair. He was overwhelmed by rage, hitting his target repeatedly but not really making progress.

He looked around, saw no one but himself and Wrath in the room.

Not that it mattered when his opponent, the only one that counted was right in front of him.

* * *

_It was an easy decision, Jackson would later say, but in the moment, he was caught up in a decision, two options laying themselves out for him: either stepping in between Lydia and Stiles or hauling himself at the demon in front of him. Just then, though, when he was about to submit to stop her from letting his pack kill each other, a thought occurred to him, shining brightly through his rage._

_If he managed to get a hold of her, kill her as fast as possible, the illusions would stop too._

_He had watched his pack go against each other. Stiles and Lydia, Erica and Isaac, Boyd and Derek, Allison and Scott. He had watched and had wondered why they couldn’t see what he was seeing. That neither was fighting who they thought they did._

_Wrath must have put a spell on them, just like she had on him, making them see things that weren’t real, weren’t there. He was nearly deterred from his target when he heard Lydia screech. Just for the span of a moment, he turned, watching with an ache in his chest as Stiles was hit to the ground, held down by his girlfriend. He wanted to help them, wanted to interfere. But there was no other way than to kill the demon in front of him._

_A version of Gerard appeared suddenly to his right. Jackson stopped in his tracks. The old man ordered him to kill, once more. And Jackson wanted to comply, felt the scales of the Kanima cover his body. A power long forgotten suddenly surged through his veins. His claws elongated, his fangs sharpened. A finger pointed towards Derek where he was still fighting Boyd, keeping the upper hand against the other wolf. Jackson stalked forward, only one word in mind:_

_Kill._

_A scream rang through him that he recognised as Lydia’s. He was back at the garage, back to that day when Derek and Peter had pushed their claws inside them until there had been nothing left to rip apart. Piles of bodies on each of his sides. Gerard laughing with black blood dripping from his mouth. Matt drowning in the river. Isaac’s father screaming for his life._  
_Jackson’s claws bore themselves into the tender flesh of his palm._

_He shook his head, trying to keep his mind straight on the order. Another surge of memories, bodies over bodies. And now they weren’t just random people, they were Stiles and Lydia and Derek, even Scott. All decorated with slash marks fitting his own claws. Tears burned in his eyes. The Kanima’s venom dripped from his tail._

_It’s not my fault,he thought to himself, desperately repeating that mantra in his head like Stile told him he should. It didn’t work. Another image, another wave of guilt swallowing him whole._

_It wasn’t my fault._

_Not my fault._

_Not my fault._

_**Not my fault.** _

_And then he heard it. A scream, so terrifying it made his insides freeze up. He blinked against the flickering images in front of his eyes until they gave way to a scenery that made his stomach drop._

_“Lyds?” He stepped closer, his memories forgotten. The banshee lay on the ground, a slash in her chest deep enough to pour out blood like a waterfall. Her eyes didn’t focus until he was in front of her. But when they did, they went wide with recognition. She reached for him, fingers trembling and cold._

_“Overcome it,” her voice came out croaked, exhausted. Her face was pale._

_“I know you can-“ her words got caught in her throat. He wanted to tell her, she was wrong, that he couldn’t, didn’t know how to._

_“I love you, Jackson…” her eyes filled with tears. He wanted to hold her but pressed down on the gaping wound trying frantically to stop the blood flow._

_“We all forgive you,” she continued against the obvious strain it was putting on her to talk._

_“Forgive yourself,” her eyelids fluttered shut._

_He stood, stepped over an unconscious Stiles to where Wrath was watching Derek and Boyd fight. Jackson barely noticed the blood dripping from her claws, confirming that it had been her, not Stiles to deliver the blow to Lydia’s body._

_She looked up, a grin on her lips._

_“Congratulations, Kanima. I didn’t have expect you to break my hold that quickly, but then again, that girl is your weak spot.” She showed off her claw, accentuating her guilt. Jackson growled lowly in his throat._

_He was bombarded by an onslaught of images, one by one burning against the back of his eyes. He didn’t care, dismantled them as illusions, each faster than the other._

_“Not bad, I have to admit.” Wrath had gotten up, was moving away from him. It was the first sign of worry, this sudden retreat and Jackson jumped on it._

_All of his carefully built control, Jackson used to its full potential. He approached fast, not giving her a chance to disappear. Even when she turned invisible again, he relied on his other senses, smelling her foul odour from across the room._

_He whirled around, acting as if he had spotted her on the opposite side while waiting for her to feel safe. Then he pounced, catching her off guard. She fought tooth and nail, kicking and scratching him wherever she could reach. It wasn’t enough. His claws were faster, his fangs sharper. She ripped out a piece of flesh of his arm, spitting it out to the floor._

_Lydia’s words echoed in his mind and he realised, while holding onto the deadliest demon they had yet encountered, that while she hadn’t been right, she hadn’t been wrong either._

_He slowed his breathing. And then he thought back, just briefly to all those memories that had plagued him for the last few days. He knew, deep down, that the Kanima had been a part of him, that he had enjoyed killing._

_He also knew that he wasn’t that person anymore. The power inside him felt more frightening, threatening even. He weighed his position as a Beta against the resources of the Kanima._

_Family against power._

_And the decision was easy._

_He slashed Wrath’s throat without another word, watching in satisfaction as the others came out of their trance. Only for a moment, then he ran back to Lydia, cradling her body gently in his hands._

_The voices of the others, yelling and asking and screaming, were too loud for him to make out a heartbeat. The panic overwhelmed him again, making him want to hit something. But then, a soft hand pressed down on his shoulder._

_“She’s not dead,” Derek said. Stiles fell down beside him, getting to work almost immediately, completely ignoring the tears streaming down his cheeks. Scott was on Jackson’s other side, steadying him when his own body wouldn’t hold up anymore. Erica and Boyd looked after Allison, who had a deep gash in her arm and was limping badly. Isaac lay in the corner, completely out of it._

_Jackson wanted to get up and check on him but was shoved back down._

_“He’s resting, don’t worry.” Scott mumbled, but never let his eyes off the other wolf._

_“Jackson?” Her voice saying his name made the last barrier in his head scramble to pieces. Without thinking, he wrapped her in a tight embrace, promising to never let go again. As the others turned away, he mumbled sweet words into her ear._

* * *

Stiles was helped by Derek to the car. The fight had left him aching all over and emotionally exhausted. Watching Lydia almost die had pulled everything out of him. He had the strong desire to rest for a week. Inside the car, he saw the others drive away, followed by the Jeep Derek drove expertly. Stiles slumped down on the passenger seat.

He didn’t know what triggered it, or made him so brave, but he felt encouraged enough to ask. Watching Jackson and Lydia fall into each other’s arms would do that to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was a date that first night?” Judging by Derek’s facial expression, the wolf knew damn well what Stiles was talking about.

“Because you suddenly were so upset. I thought, I’d done something wrong. I didn’t want-“ He stopped in the middle of the sentence, face flushed and ears red. It was all Stiles needed to come up with his own conclusions.

“You thought I’d reject you?”

Derek huffed but didn’t deny it, instead, he kept his eyes trained on the road. Stiles asked him then, in no uncertain terms, to stop the car so that they could talk. If the others found it odd that they stopped, they didn’t let them know.

Derek’s answer also made Stiles realise that one of them would need to be brave.

“I‘d never reject you, not when I wanted you for so long,” he stated in a rush of breath. Derek froze in his seat. Stiles barely had time to regret admitting it, when Derek closed the distance between them and kissed him. It was harder, harsher than any kisses before, full of passion and emotion Derek still hadn’t expressed.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, Stiles. That night, I wanted to tell you- I wanted it to be a date but then you smelled-“ he breathed in between peppering Stiles’ neck with kisses “you smelled so sad and I thought I had done something wrong, that you didn’t want this and I got scared.”

“You said we were hanging out. I thought you meant as friends. That’s why I was avoiding you. Because I thought you didn’t want me.”

“How couldn’t I want you?” Derek whispered and for the first time, Stiles was tempted to believe him.

“I-“

His phone rang suddenly, making Derek smile sheepishly and Stiles giggle.

Stiles picked it up, not surprised that his father was being shown as the caller ID. He answered the call and immediately had to hold it away from his ear when his father yelled into it:

“Stiles? Stiles! Where are you?”

Dread spread in his stomach, replacing his earlier relief and happiness.

“I’m with Derek, Dad. We’re on the way to the loft.” he paused, afraid to even ask: “Why? What’s going on?”

“Good. Stay there! Tell the others to drive there as fast as they can! I’m coming over! I’m on my way! Keep driving!” his voice cracked slightly, revealing to Stiles that he wasn’t as much in control as he wished to be.

“Promise me not to go outside!”

“Dad! What’s going on? You’re freaking me out!”

“That demon- that demon you told me about- the one who is responsible for all this chaos-“

“What about him? Dad?” His father was breathing fast, an airhorn was switched on somewhere.

“I saw-“

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound.

“Dad? Dad!” Stiles yelled into the phone, frantically trying to hear what was going on. His father didn’t answer. Only silence greeted him on the other end. Stiles stared at the screen, unseeing the letters informing him of what had happened:

_The line was dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank all of you for your kind comments and patience and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	10. Hell (Infernum) If you're going through hell, keep going...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, to all of you who have stuck with me and have been so kind and patient and overall the best.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the end of this story. 
> 
> Please, feel free to knock yourself out in the comments.

_"Because the devil doesn’t come to you dressed in red with horns on his head, he comes to you disguised as everything you’ve ever wanted."_

  
Silence filled the car. Stiles stared at the display, still not comprehending.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice slowly trickled through the thick veil of fear enveloping Stiles’ brain. He must have called his name several times already, judging by the exasperation clearly audible.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Stiles was deaf to anything but the constant beeping tone in his ears.

He felt it, however, when Derek gripped his shoulders and shook him from the driver’s seat.

“What. Is. Wrong.” Punctuating each word, Derek forced Stiles to look him in the eye. Worry was there, fear, maybe even resignation.

“My Dad-“ he croaked out, unable to find his voice amongst the sudden wave of emotions all crashing down on him in that very moment of vocal manifestation.

“He- the line’s dead…” it still wouldn’t register, what had likely happened. Caught in an everlasting spiral of inability to move, Stiles stared straight ahead in the car, watching as Derek continued driving.

Meanwhile, Stiles’ mind was blank, void of any and all emotion. His father was in danger. There was no doubt about it. He had seen something or someone, had wanted to tell Stiles something important and that had been his demise.

If-

No. Stiles wouldn’t even dare think that. His father wasn’t dead.

Not dead.

Just- he was just-

“We’ll get him. I swear, Stiles- wherever he is, we’ll get him back.” Derek sounded much surer of himself than Stiles felt he had any right to be. But he couldn’t afford to doubt the Alpha.

Couldn’t afford to even think about it.

Silence was predominant in the car, swallowing each sound from the outside until Derek pulled up in the parking lot.

Stiles let the Alpha do the talking, a desire to cover his ears tingling in his hands. He hated hearing those words. It made the situation more real, more palpable.

Scott’s scared voice reached him, ripping him out of the protective aura he had built like a bubble around himself.

“He has to be alright. He’s gonna be alright,” as if Scott didn’t notice he was more talking to himself than to Stiles. Still, Stiles appreciated it and saw Jackson break his phone out of the corner of his eye.

“Jackson-“

“Can we catch a goddamn break?” the Kanima snarled. His wounds had healed since their departure from the mansion but his face was still pale and his eyes vibrantly blue. His fingers never strayed far from where Lydia was lying on the couch, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. She had refused to be driven to the ER, insisting that it was a minor injury, which both Jackson and Stiles vehemently disagreed with.

“We’ll-“

“Stop talking!” Jackson snarled when Lydia tried to speak up. She scowled but the force of it was lessened by the softness in her eyes. Instead of attempting to speak once more, she simply pointed towards the pile of books covering Derek’s dining table.

“I read them, Lydia,” Stiles said, exasperation seeping into his tone. His favourite Banshee simply rolled her eyes and pointed more vehemently.

“What?”

She huffed, gestured for Erica to hand her a notebook. Without breaking eye-contact, she scribbled down a few choice words.

**_Hell’s Spawn. A Devilish Discourse. Vol.2, Niccolo Machiavelli._ **

  
Stiles frowned at the title, not having come across it yet and sceptical of anything sounding this sensational. He searched for the book, knocking over a few others on the table. Once he finally held it in his hands, he skipped through the pages, surprised to find illustrations of the sins and in-depth explanations about their powers.

He caught a glimpse of a drawing, showing a sketch of a demon they had yet to encounter. And suddenly, he knew perfectly well why Lydia had been so adamant for him to take a look at this particular book.

**Belphegor, Knight of Hell: leathery skin, wings (black), horns (seven), eyes (serpent-like, black, yellow pupils), fallen angel, can appear beautiful (eye of the beholder) but not in its true form, immortal**

It was the last word in the chain of information that caught Stiles’ attention. Every thought came to a halt and his brain short-circuited.

Immortal.

That couldn’t be right. No demon was immortal, nothing ever was. He couldn’t allow himself to even consider the possibility that nothing they could do would get rid of him.

Two pages later, he was ready to vomit. Every source mentioned agreed that they either didn’t have a clue as to how the demon was disposed of or simply didn’t think he could be. Once again, Stiles thought bitterly to himself, the odds weren’t in their favour.

Derek seemed to sense his upcoming panic and inched closer, peaking over his shoulder to get a look at the page too.

“Just because it’s not mentioned doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do,” he tried to be reasonable, to remain positive but Stiles was beyond caring.

“I need to go home,” he announced suddenly, almost shooting off the couch.

“Stiles-“

“No. Derek, I really need to go home.”

“But your Dad said-“

“Doesn’t matter what he said. He’s gone, isn’t he? Because that bastard got to him before we could!”

Stiles slammed the door on his way out, not caring if someone followed him. He knew, deep down, the risk of driving home alone.

How many possibilities were there for him to get attacked, kidnapped, killed?

But he didn’t let the fear root him to the spot. What he needed was answers that the books at Derek’s couldn’t give him. There was a reason, he reminded himself. There is always a reason people get kidnapped. If the demon wanted his father Dad, he’d killed him in front of Stiles. Since Melissa had assured him countless times that the Sheriff had not been admitted to the ER that left out an accident and meant one thing and one thing only:

His father had found something- something the demon wanted concealed from the pack because it could cause him harm.

At home, Stiles carefully searched the house high and low, aware of every movement, every noise that could mean there was an intruder inside. Nothing attacked him, nothing waited for him, lurking in the shadows.

Almost in a trance, he wandered towards his father’s room. The door was open as if he had left in a hurry. If Stiles thought the information was lying around, he was disappointed, even while congratulating his father for being smart enough to hide it.

It took him a moment to put himself into his father’s shoes.

_I’m in a hurry. My son is in danger. A demon is on the loose and most likely knows that I’m on his trail. Where do I hide it? Information that would be lethal to him but useful to my son. I need him to find it without making it obvious. If I were Stiles, where would I look?_

And suddenly, the light in his head was turned back on form where it been in a deep slumber. He knew. It was so easy. He couldn’t move fast enough, throwing over a lamppost in his haste to get to it.

The photograph was still propped up against the counter, a light layer of dust sticking to the surface of the glass. But the backside is what was important. And there, Stiles saw it. The fingerprints around the buckle holding the picture in the frame. He knew for a fact and without a doubt that his Dad never touched the photo, except on her death day. So, these fingerprints must have been new, _recent_.

Excitement surged through his veins once he had opened the frame. A page fell out between it and the picture, cleverly concealed between the throes of memories. Stiles unfolded it quickly, eyes already skimming through.

A poem, he realised. But not just any poem. It had been ripped out from somewhere, yellow stains indicating its age.

He dialled Derek’s number.

“Stiles? Are you home? What’s-“

“We don’t have time for that! Put me on speaker!” Stiles rasped out, heart pounding in his ears. A change in sound quality told him that Derek had complied. With a trembling voice he read out loud:

_Orange the Glutton_

_who’s never satisfied,_

_when need trumps passion_

_humanity’s soul is tied._

_Where Sloth is blue_

_all labour ceases,_

_partway through_

_strong fall to pieces._

_Dark purple for Pride,_

_a head held too high,_

_to reach anything but_

_the stars in the sky._

_Yellow to Greed,_

_a need never forgotten,_

_not one thing’s enough_

_not even spoiled rotten._

_Pink taints Lust_

_just like kisses the skin,_

_since heavenly pleasure_

_would still be a sin._

_So does Green stand for Envy,_

_desires one can’t possess,_

_what another calls property_

_to a point of excess._

_Last, Red is for Wrath,_

_a final sin yet to breech,_

_full of hatred and anger,_

_lies death in its reach._

_All the sins, old, forgotten_

_to the world that still turns-_

_the rise of the rotten_

_until the last city burns._

_Seven sins, Seven rings-_

_each worth a sign,_

_their combined power brings,_

_what even God’s can’t align._

_Take one of them each,_

_melt them down in a pot,_

_a dagger emerges_

_to get rid of the lot._

_A weapon so strong_

_to banish all of the devils_

_to hell’s seven levels_

_and bring their King right along._

Silence greeted Stiles on the other end of the line once he was finished reading out loud.

“Derek-“

“Yeah, sorry- just-“ Stiles could vividly picture Derek scratching his hair, pacing around in the flat.

“You need to come back here!” Another voice suddenly yelled into the receiver. Scott was more frantic than Stiles had ever heard him.

“No! Stay where you are! I’ll come get you!” Derek seemingly had run out of the loft, leaving Scott in charge of the phone.

“Stiles- are you there?”

“Yes.” Somehow the panic wouldn’t come. Instead, Stiles sat on his father’s bed, twirling the page around in his fingers. He absentmindedly listened to Scott ramble on about how the pack was doing. Not that he needed it since he had literally left them an hour ago, but he still appreciated the attempt.

“And Lydia still refuses to go to the ER.” Scott concluded a well of words that had come out of his mouth with the speed of the Camaro. At the mention of Lydia, Stiles felt guilt pool in his stomach.

He hadn’t taken lightly to fighting her. While the wolves were all healed up in a minute, the humans in the pack weren’t so lucky. Stiles had done his fair share of injuring his opponent. That he had thought that opponent to be Wrath and not Lydia was of no consequences.

Suddenly, while still rehashing the fight and his part in it and with Scott continuously rambling into his ear, the front door practically flew open.

“Come on!” Derek was up the stairs in the span of a millisecond, pulling Stiles with him and not looking back. Stiles had a hard time keeping up, clenching the page tightly in his fist. He couldn’t really explain why the page seemed so important to him- the pack had without doubt all memorised the information on it- but he wanted to have it with him nonetheless. A fleeting thought occurred to him then, that maybe it had to do with his father.

 _Stop_ , he scolded himself. This was not the time to get sentimental. They would have him back in no time, uninjured and completely healthy. There was no other option and Stiles refused to let himself go there.

Derek remained mute the whole way back. Stiles snorted when he realised how he was changing locations like a tennis ball. He allowed himself to bask in the ridiculousness of the situation for just a moment.

Derek spared him a slightly worried glance but didn’t comment. Instead, he focused on the street, senses on high alert. At every turn, Derek looked three times to each side, as if the demon would jump out of the bushes and yell “hurray”.

They reached the loft without incident though, so Derek relaxed a fraction.

“Let me read it again,” he asked once they were both safely tucked inside the loft, surrounded by the pack, who were in equal states of distress.

Stiles handed over the page reluctantly, but not before taking a photo with his mobile. As expected, giving it another read did in fact not change any of the words on it.

“Shit!” Erica suddenly exclaimed, startled when she felt the attention of everyone in the room on her.

“What is it?” Isaac tried to coax out of her but she stared straight ahead without answering. Stiles imagined he saw the wheels turning in her head.

“We left it there,” Erica mumbled, almost too quietly for Stiles to hear. When the meaning of her words registered, Stiles cursed.

“What? I don’t get it,” Scott said, confusion written all over his face.

“We left it there! The last ring! We only have six!” A collective groan echoed from the walls. Before Stiles could even ask, Derek had risen and went over to the cupboard where he stored the rings.

Stiles had given them to him for safekeeping seeing as his house was mostly empty at some days while Derek’s loft was almost always occupied. At least one member of the pack would be present so if someone came for the jewellery, they’d have to go through a wolf first.

“Six.” The Alpha stated, as if that had needed confirmation.

Erica was up from the couch and out of the door before anyone could hold her back. Over her shoulder, she shouted: “I’ll go get it!”

Derek’s roar of protest went unanswered- but not unheard, that Stiles was sure of- but Boyd looked a little green around the nose.

“She can take care of herself,” Stiles tried to console him but he could see how close the Beta was to wolfing out. Considering that Boyd was usual calm personified, this display of nerves was truly terrifying.

“I know that,” he bit out, hands clenching and unclenching again.

“She’ll be back in no time.” Stiles felt the uptick in his heartbeat before Boyd even commented on it.

As confident as he was in Erica’s ability to hold her own in a fight, this was not one she should walk into alone. Not when a demon was out to get them. But she had chosen to do this task and doubting her would not do anyone any good. So, Stiles firmly planted his trust into the Beta’s strength and waited for her return with a racing heart.

She didn’t take longer than an hour, ripping the door open with a triumphant grin on her face. In her hand something red hit the light, making it shimmer. Stiles immediately surged forward to pull her into a hug but Boyd was quicker.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he heard the wolf murmur. Just then, Stiles remembered, he had had a fleeting thought that this had been a bit too easy. He had scolded himself then for being paranoid.

“We’re a team.” Boyd stated, more emotion in those four words than a lengthy explanation would ever hold.

“Sorry Babe,” Erica did look a bit sheepish but that vanished once everyone congratulated her for a job well done. Stiles lined up the rings then, fascinated by their beauty.

“So, we just melt them down?” Isaac asked, sounding a tad bit unsure. Stiles couldn’t blame him for it. Following instructions of ominous recipes did not always end well. 

This time however, luck seemed to be on their side. At least for once, Stiles thought to himself.

“We just melt them down.” Derek confirmed, voice grave as if he prepared for the worst.

 _Huh. That was so not exciting,_ Stiles thought to himself when the rings slowly changed to a fluid mess in the pot the Alpha was stirring with a concentrated look.

Seriously, those old books made it sound mysterious and magicky and in the end, all they got was a purple poof and some smoke. 

It was almost a pity, Stiles couldn’t help but think, melting those impressive pieces of jewellery into a dagger. Not that he’d rather not have a weapon against that son of a bitch but hey, he did have a knack for aesthetics.

How Derek managed to make it sharp enough to pierce actual skin was beyond Stiles, seeing as his hands shook badly enough that he needed to hold onto something. It did work out almost perfectly, though.

Stiles briefly wondered if that was because Derek had been the one to do it. All those mentions of the Alpha throughout the wave of sins hitting the town had him on his toes. They hadn’t talked about what their comments meant or if there was something more to it than simply taunting. He didn’t know when to bring up his suspicions, only knew that he had to.

In the end, the decision was taken from his hands when Allison asked him what was wrong, since he’d been staring at a wall for the last five minutes without hearing a word anyone had been saying.

“Stiles?” This time, Derek spoke to him, softly. 

“Just thinking…” Stiles’ mind though was elsewhere, recapitulating every encounter, every word that had been exchanged between the pack and the demons. Derek’s character had come up more than once, he remembered.

“They knew you…” he wasn’t quite sure what struck him as special about that but something did and he couldn’t let go once he got a hold of it.

“Even the first ones knew you. Lust- she said you’d be perfect…”

“She was desperate. There’s nothing to it…” And Stiles would have shrugged it off, would have believed Derek to be utterly indifferent. If it weren’t- if it weren’t for that damn twitch in his hands.

“She wasn’t desperate. She was curious.”

An uptick in Derek’s jaw. As if it had occurred to him too. Even before tonight.

“For what?” the Alpha asked, mustering as much incredulity as he could muster.

“Us? You? I don’t know- it’s just…” He scratched his head.

“There’s something missing. Something missing. Something missing…” he mumbled to himself, pacing up and down.

“What’s missing? Stiles? Come one,” Scott had scooted closer as if speaking with that urgent tone would somehow trigger a reaction.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! _Fuck_ -“ the scratching had turned into hair pulling.

“Leave him alone, McCall!” Jackson bit out, almost shielding Stiles’ whole body with his own. To his surprise, Scott backed off, hands in the air and looking rather sheepish.

  
**_Knock._ **

The whole pack snapped upright at the sharp knock on the door. Silence grew thick between them until the next knock was accompanied by a voice:

“Derek! I know you’re in there! Open up!”

Scott was first at the door, ripping it open so that Parrish stumbled inside, completely surprised by the momentum.

“Thanks, Scott.” He righted himself, brushing imaginary dust from the uniform he was wearing.

“Parrish,” Derek greeted with an outstretched hand, the former nervousness disappearing.

“The Sheriff was abducted.” Parrish’s eyes caught Stiles and saw not the surprise he had expected to be there.

“You already know.” It wasn’t a question.

“He was on the phone with Stiles when-“ Derek trailed off, not sure if repeating what had happened would bring Stiles back to that moment.

“When he got cut off,” Stiles finished for him. This wasn’t the time to spare his feelings.

“I know where he is!” Parrish interrupted. And was greeted with wide eyes and stunned silence.

“I’ve put a tracker into his badge…” For some reason Parrish turned quite red. Stiles felt himself suppress a smirk at the deputy’s obvious discomfort. Then the implication of what he was saying finally sunk in.

“You know where he is!”

“Yes!”

“Then what are we waiting for? We’ve got the dagger! Let’s go!”

Parrish’s “what dagger?” was ignored.

The minute they were out of the door though, they halted so suddenly in their steps that the pack members who were a bit behind ran right into them.

 _“Shit!”_ Somebody cursed on Stiles’ right side. He didn’t have time to inquire who it had been.

“Get back!” Derek roared and pushed Stiles behind him. Just in time the Alpha manged to shove all his pack members back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck?” Boyd breathed out, a tremor in his voice that made Stiles nervous.

“We can’t go back out there. We’re trapped here. We can’t-“ Isaac sounded just as stunned as Stiles felt.

And he had every reason to. Because just outside, in the parking lot, people were waiting for them, guns, swords, knifes, all kinds of weapons raised against them, voices loud and aggressive.

They’d brought sledgehammers and chainsaws and every instrument handy enough to kill someone. Even the supernatural had joined, some who Stiles personally knew he had pissed off.

For a fleeting second, Stiles worried that the door wouldn’t hold up but Derek had already ushered them back up to the loft.

“What do we do?” Allison, uncharacteristically pale around the nose, asked. She fumbled with her bow.

“Wh- what’s g-“ Lydia’s eyes were round like saucers once they re-entered the loft in a haste. Her throat still wouldn’t let her speak in full sentences but the sentiment of her question was quite clear.

“People. Outside.” Derek rasped, staring out of the window without moving the curtains. Stiles refrained from rolling his eyes. If they had come to the parking lot, they knew damn well where Derek’s loft was.

No use in hiding anymore.

“We need to get somewhere safe!” Boyd, always the reasonable mind in their group, but this time, Stiles didn’t know if it held any merit. He just didn’t see how any of them were supposed to get out of here. The building was surrounded, there was no way out.

He realised, his breath came short, his vision turned blurry without his consent. There wasn’t enough air in his lungs. They just wouldn’t expand. He gripped the nearest object- Erica’s shirt- and held onto it for dear life, trying desperately to stay upright. A giggle escaped him, even though nothing about this was funny. Tears streamed over his cheeks.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.

_Air.  
_

_He needed air._

Ice cold water hit him square in the face, made him gasp. Isaac had doused a glass over him, its contents dripping down his face.

He breathed in shakily: Once. Twice. Then suddenly, the blockage in his lungs seemed to be lifted. He breathed in, like a man starved for oxygen, wobbly on his legs. His hand shook where he was still holding onto Erica. She eased him down, kept a tight hold on him when his legs gave out under him.

“Protocol,” he vaguely recognised Derek talking but the words didn’t ring through to him.

“Emergency protocol. We’re splitting up.” Three protesting sounds, Parrish was one of them, went ignored.

“Listen!” The urgency shut them right up. Stiles internally giggled again, strangely proud of the Alpha for keeping his calm.

“ _Listen._ If we all go out through the front door, we’re dead. They’re already on their way up here. We need to split up. Alone we’re not that big of a target. Harder to catch.”

Finally, once that deafening tone ringing in his ears had subsided, Stiles could concentrate on what Derek was saying.

And he agreed. Not gladly, not happily, but he too saw only one chance they’d make it out of here alive.

Just then, somewhere in the building a tumult broke loose. Even Stiles, with his normal hearing range, could hear it.

“They’re in the building. Derek-“ Allison was worried, scared even and Stiles fought tooth and nail to keep the upcoming panic at bay. Erica’s nails dug into his arm.

“We need to go! Come on!” Two windows were ripped open almost simultaneously. Boyd nodded from his angle, taking Allison with him on the way. The huntress turned around with fear in her eyes.

“Scott!”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon.” The heartbreak on Scott’s face was mirrored in Allison’s. Stiles knew, in that moment, what went through his best friend’s head. He had never had the chance to propose. If this was the end, she’d go without knowing how much she meant to him.

They deserved better than that.

Boyd halted for barely a second while easing Allison out of the window. He fiddled with his hands then marched up to Erica and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. She reached for him but he was already back to where Allison was waiting.

The two disappeared from view just after Derek told them their code word. Stiles had trouble remembering which location that code word meant. His focus was disrupted once a loud yell rang through the walls. Maybe they didn’t know the exact apartment but it wouldn’t be long before they would figure it out.

“You two next!” Derek said, pointing at Jackson and Scott. They shared a look, determination visible in each of their faces.

“Don’t wait for me!” Jackson told Lydia, voice hoarse. It betrayed the confident stance he was trying so desperately to uphold. The smile she gave him in return was full of tears.

Stiles barely saw them jumping out the other window when Erica let go of his arm and stood up. She trembled when she grabbed Lydia around the waist. The banshee could barely stand, still too weak to move on her own.

“Derek-“

“Take care of her!”

“Derek-“ Erica tried again, desperation ringing clear as glass in her voice.

“If we don’t make it-“

“I’ll tell him! Both of them! Now go!” Erica’s expression hardened into something untouchable. Lydia shared a look with Stiles, nodding as if saying goodbye. And then they were gone.

Isaac paced around in the living room, turning his head whenever the voices came closer. He flinched at the rap on the door. Everyone left in the loft froze, determined not to make a sound. Stiles’ heart beat up in his chest, silence deafening in his ears.

Then the footsteps retreated.

For a moment, it seemed as if they had decided to try elsewhere. Stiles knew it didn’t mean the danger was over but he relished in the break. However short it may be.

“What about me?” Parrish suddenly piped up.

“You’re with me.” Derek stated. Three pairs of eyes bore into his skull.

“I thought you’d be with Stiles,” Isaac mumbled, not sure if he was allowed to question Derek’s decision at this time.

“No.” Derek’s tone bore no argument. The floor was pulled out from under Stiles’ feet. He had put all his money on being with Derek. Why-

“They’d have leverage.”

“So what?”

“Stiles-“

“No. You can’t leave me like this!” He didn’t give a fuck if he sounded desperate. He wanted to go with Derek. This was the only way he’d feel even a sense of security.

“No. You’re going with Isaac and that’s final.” Stiles felt the Beta reach out for him, tried to fight him off but didn’t succeed. The voices were getting louder again. Isaac pulled harder, grabbed Stiles and pushed him to the window.

“We have to go! Come on!” The fear was evident on the wolf’s features but Stiles only had eyes for Derek.

“Derek please.”

“I’ll be with you in a minute, okay? Just- trust me on this one.” A sharp sound echoed around them.

“Found it! They’re hiding here!” A foreign voice yelled, slurring their words. The naked fear in Derek’s eyes, the pleading tone in his voice were the only reasons Stiles flung himself out of the window, Isaac following closely after.

“Derek-“ Stiles tried once more. He needed to say it, needed Derek to hear. But the wolf only shook his head.

“I know. I know, Stiles. I promise-“ But Stiles didn’t hear what Derek promised. Because that was when the door finally burst. Guns were fired while he and Isaac made a run for Stiles’ car.

Isaac hit the gas, not looking back. A group of people who were standing guard outside the building tried to stop them from leaving but Isaac didn’t let them. He drove expertly, concentration etched into his skin.

Stiles didn’t know if the others had made it out, if they were even still alive, if Derek and Parrish were still fighting for their lives.

* * *

He didn’t know how long they were driving. At one point, Isaac turned around to go into another direction as if trying to shake off someone Stiles couldn’t see. None of them had spoken a word for what felt like hours.

“There’s still someone on our trail. I can’t shake them off,” Isaac pressed out through clenched teeth. His eyes were shifting between golden and blue. They didn’t have time for this. Stiles needed at least Isaac to keep a cool head.

“Wolf?”

“No. It’s- I don’t know…” He hit the gas again, trying for high speed but the shadow wouldn’t leave.

“U-turn.” Stiles said, suddenly highly awake when exhaustion had been trying to claim him for the past hour.

“Make a U-turn.” He was already letting down the window. Isaac looked confused but did what Stiles asked. For a moment, Stiles feared he had been wrong but then he saw it. The creature running straight towards them, black fur and green eyes shining in the dark.

 _Let it come closer, come on, just a bit,_ Stiles thought, never leaving the creature out of his sight.

“Stiles?”

“Keep going. Don’t slow down! Go straight at it, come on!” He had trouble speaking over the wind hitting his face while he was leaning dangerously out of the window. Without a doubt Isaac had heard him when Stiles felt the car speed up. The beast didn’t stop. Stiles could see its teeth shimmering in the low light.

It was close enough.

He aimed.

Shot.

A garbled sound made its way from the creature’s hellish mouth. It slowed to a trot. Stiles had hit it right in its leg, making it impossible to keep up anymore. The bullet, he thought triumphantly, was dosed in wolfsbane and other unpleasant herbs that Deaton had provided him with.

“Get back in!” Even though their shadow was finally shaken off, Isaac seemed not the least bit calmer. He pulled Stiles back into the car, breathing deeply with his nostrils flaring.

“Good shot,” he offered.

“Thanks.”

Once more, silence took hold of them. That was, until Isaac’s eyes turned back to blue.

“You think the others made it?”

Stiles couldn’t answer, didn’t even want to think of the possibility that they hadn’t.

“We’re gonna find out soon anyway,” Isaac just kept talking as if he needed something to do.

“How far away are we?”

“Not far. An hour tops.”

“You sure we’re not being followed?”

“Yes.” Isaac’s word was enough for Stiles. For the first time since the attack, he allowed himself to lean back and just breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Isaac blurted out suddenly.

“I know you wanted to go with him. I just- it was a direct command, I couldn’t-“

Stiles shushed him before he could say any more.

“Not your fault. He had his reasons.” Maybe if he told himself enough times, he’d believe it. But doubt, once it had found a way inside, was prepared to stay.

“I’ll protect you,” Isaac sounded so solemn, it made Stiles chuckle.

“I know that.” He paused, feeling a tad bit sheepish “I’ll try to return the favour.”

“You already did.”

“I just shot.”

“No-“ Isaac shook his head vehemently, then continued “You hit.”

Hearing the wolf so much in awe, so confident in Stiles’ ability made the latter breathe more easily. At least for a while.

“Scott’ll make it, you know? Jackson’s with him. There’s no way they won’t.” Stiles tried to reassure, not sure if for himself or for Isaac or both of them.

He knew how much Scott meant to Isaac, how close their bond was- brothers, equals, Betas. It was different than with Derek, who was almost like an older brother to Isaac but still authority that could not be crossed. Scott was a bit more complex, a mixture of friendship and gratefulness and a healthy dose of snark.

He smiled at the last one.

It was incidentally what connected Isaac and Stiles.

“Derek too. He’s strong.” Isaac offered as way of consolation, ripping Stiles out of his thoughts. 

“He was right, you know?”

“About what?” Stiles couldn’t really keep up with Isaac’s train of thought sometime. It reminded him, oddly enough, of himself whenever his brain would go haywire.

“About picking those groups,” he hesitated when he sensed Stiles’ hurt.

“He couldn’t be with you. Erica couldn’t be with Boyd, Scott not with Allison and Jackson not with Lydia.”

“And you not with Scott,” Stiles muttered, more to himself than to Isaac but the other caught it anyway. The corners of Isaac’s mouth lifted a little, half a smile half a smirk.

“And I not with Scott,” he confirmed, eyes glued to the road but a blush faint on his cheeks.

* * *

It took a little longer than the predicted hour for them to arrive at their destination. The woods had turned darker by the minute and Stiles had trouble seeing as they exited the car. Suddenly, Isaac’s hand pushed him back.

Stiles was about to ask what was wrong when a shot came out of nowhere, grazing his arm. He couldn’t reign in the scream of pain. His flesh felt like it was on fire where blood dropped to the ground. Isaac snarled, focused on something Stiles couldn’t see.

“Stay behind me,” the wolf hissed when he crouched down.

Something clad in dark clothes came barrelling towards them. Isaac reacted faster than Stiles had ever seen him, shielding Stiles with his body and blocking the punch meant for him. The wolf hauled in pain when Stiles heard his arm crack. It must have been seriously dislocated if the angle it was sticking out of was anything to go by. The hunter- was it even a hunter or just a stupid human?- attacked again, this time aiming for Isaac.

The wolf struggled for control, still not dealing well with pain that strong.

So, Stiles did what he always knew he would do when one of his own was in danger. He stepped in between them, acting fast.

Isaac wouldn’t die tonight and he sure as hell wouldn’t die for him.

Before the hunter could react, Stiles had sped closer. His only advantage, he later reflected, was that the hunter had been distracted by Isaac trying to get back up again. Stiles put all he had into the movement of his arm, hitting his target square in the chest. A gurgling sound, followed by a body hitting the ground deafened his ears.

“St- Stiles-“ Isaac had finally righted himself, stumbling over to where Stiles was staring down at the body.

“You- I was supposed-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles shook the concern right off. The guy had been trying to kill them, demonic influence or not. And he had come prepared.

“Are you okay?” There was no correct answer to the question, so Stiles left it hanging and turned towards the Jeep.

“Let’s-“ he gestured for Isaac to follow him, trying to hide the Jeep between trees so that maybe they had a chance of not being discovered. He felt Isaac wanted to ask, to talk but he couldn’t right now.

The decision had been easy, yes, the action not so much.

Isaac searched his bag for his flashlight and scanned the ground for the hidden door they were supposed to find.

Around five minutes later and they finally stumbled across it. Isaac helped Stiles inside, pulled the trapdoor close-

“Stiles!” Erica’s voice nearly shredded his eardrums. A second later, he was enveloped in a tight hug, nearly crushing his chest. Isaac brought some distance between them, not wanting to hurt himself further. Stiles saw Lydia sprawled out on the bed Derek had put in the tunnel a while ago.

She looked shaken but not too badly off.

“You good?” Isaac asked her and both men breathed a sigh of relief when the banshee nodded.

“What happened? Why are you bleeding.” It seemed as if Erica was compensating for Lydia’s inability to talk. She helped Stiles find a bandage for his arm, noting that the bullet had just grazed his arm instead of hitting it full on. Isaac was a different matter altogether.

“Need a little help, pup?” Isaac hissed at her, hating the nickname. Stiles and Lydia shared a smile, the banter between the other two almost normal.

A sickening crack later and Isaac’s shoulder was being popped into its rightful place. The colourful string of curse words Isaac managed to spit out between gasping breaths was quite impressive.

“Have you heard anything?” Stiles tentatively asked. The effect was immediate. Everyone stiffened, Lydia averted her eyes and Erica tensed.

“No. We’re the first to make it…” Even though, the shouldn’t have been, Stiles finished the sentence in his head.

“So, now we wait?” he asked, trying for casual and failing by a mile. The others nodded gravely, tension palpable in the air. Suddenly, the tunnels felt a lot colder than after their arrival. He snuggled closer to Lydia and gestured for Erica and Isaac to do the same.

_None of them were able to sleep that night._

* * *

Another day and night passed without any sign of the others. They all had switched off their phones in case they were being tracked. Radio silence radiated through the tunnels making every step Stiles took while pacing sound like a canon being fired. Somewhere around two, Lydia had finally fallen asleep, much to the relief of the other three. She needed to rest. Isaac and Stiles managed to convince Erica they’d take the first watch. She went to sleep, grumbling to herself.

The night went by without incident but not without stress. Stiles jerked every time they heard a noise somewhere above them, hoping and fearing all the same that someone was there.

“A dear,” Isaac had once said, equal parts relief and disappointment. The wait kept them on edge, fingers tingling to do something, go back out and search for the rest of them. Yet, they didn’t, Derek’s orders ringing in their ears like an echo.

“They’ll make it…” Isaac kept repeating to himself as if saying it out loud would make it happen. Stiles was not so sure. They should be here by now. Allison and Boyd had a good ten minutes on them, why weren’t they here? And Scott and Jackson, with their fierce will and unbreakable determination- where were they?

He didn’t dare think about Derek, who had only Parrish as his back up, someone who was capable of shooting a gun that wouldn’t even so much as be a minor inconvenience to most of their enemies.

Stiles was on the verge of falling asleep, exhausted from staying awake for so long. Isaac nudged him gently but wasn’t any better himself. A sharp sound made both of them sit up suddenly. Isaac fell down in a protective crouch, fangs bared and claws growing rapidly. Stiles’ heart jackrabbited in his chest.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Isaac relaxed. He was at the trapdoor within a second, pushing it open.

“Allison?”

Scott. It was Scott. Isaac helped him inside, Stiles nearly fell over with relief when Jackson climbed in behind the other wolf. They pulled the trapdoor back down, locking it as best as they could.

And then Scott was in Stiles’ arms and Jackson in Isaac’s. It felt good, to have them here, as if another piece of the puzzled had been fitted right back where it had been missing for far too long. 

“Whasssss?” Erica had woken up, probably because her senses had picked up on the presence of two additional pack members.

“Jackson?” Lydia’ voice cut right through them like a boat through water. They made some space for her so that she could wobble towards Jackson. The kiss that followed was probably not meant to have an audience but Stiles still felt his heart relax a bit.

“I knew you’d make it,” the banshee whispered against the tears in her eyes. Jackson snorted, having heard the lie but didn’t comment. He even forgot to remind her that she shouldn’t talk with her throat still in that condition. It made Stiles wonder.

“Did you know?” he asked, not accusing but simply curious.

“No,” she answered, voice croaked but getting stronger. The other three looked a bit confused but Lydia and Stiles understood each other.

“F- chrm,” she cleared her throat, tried again “feeling”.

 _Thank fuck,_ Stiles thought, that something had warned her. He didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened if she had been alone at the ER.

“The others?” Scott asked again, tentatively and groaned when Isaac shook his head.

“You guys okay?” the worry in Isaac’s tone made Scott try for a reassuring smile. It came out crooked but the sentiment was what counted.

“Yeah,” Jackson said once he had stopped staring at Lydia as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“Had a hard time shaking off the guys trailing us. Mostly humans though, so we couldn’t-“ he made a vague gesture.

“They’re under an influence. We can’t just kill them.” Scott sounded enrage what conveyed to Stiles they had had discussed this at length already. Not that he was surprised about that. The main reason Jackson and Scott disagreed on anything was their different set of values.

Lydia motioned what Stiles interpreted as “two days?” with her hands. Jackson shuffled his feet a little.

“We came as fast as we could,” Scott jumped in to help. Jackson shot him something that looked awfully close to a thankful look.

“Needed to make sure it was safe to come here.”

Apparently, that was all the explanation Lydia needed. She held tightly onto Jackson’s hand.

Scott and Erica offered to take the second watch which gave the others time to rest. Jackson in particular seemed to need it most. The wolf fell asleep fast, dead to the world and Lydia clutched in his arms.

Stiles heard Scott explain to Erica that it had been Jackson who had taken the most of the fight. He smiled at the gentleness in Scott’s tone as if talking about a brother rather than a former frenemy.

It helped him ease his nerve a little.

* * *

Not an hour later he was roughly shaken to consciousness by Scott.

“They’re here. Get up!” His heart made a jump once comprehension dawned.

“Derek?” The smile that had been lighting up his best friend’s features dimmed suddenly. And Stiles understood.

“Allison and Boyd,” he said, feeling guilty to be disappointed.

“Come on,” it was Jackson who urged him on this time when Scott had run off to his girlfriend. Like Stiles, Allison looked worse for wear, exhausted and with scratches all over her left side.

Two shacks demon had attacked them, leaving Boyd unconscious until Allison had banished them and gotten to him.

Erica was wrapped around Boyd when Stiles reached them, Scott wouldn’t let go of Allison. Stiles couldn’t blame either. He watched Jackson and Lydia lean on each other and suddenly felt a wave of loneliness wash over him.

A hand on his shoulder redirected his attention.

“Scoot over,” Isaac said with a soft look on his face. Stiles did, confused why the wolf would ask him to. Isaac put an arm around him, pulling him in close.

“He’ll be there,” the wolf murmured into his ear. Stiles tensed.

“He’ll always come back to you.”

Stiles made a move as if to stand up but Isaac wouldn’t let him.

“Isaac-“

“Believe me.” His eyes- blue as the shore- were so open, so honest that Stiles found it hard not to. He let himself be pulled in, snuggled against Isaac’s firm chest.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Isaac’s hold only tightened in response.

* * *

The longer they stayed in the tunnels, the more aggravated the pack became. Jackson didn’t do well with close quarters, Erica longed for a fight, Isaac worried about Derek seemingly just as much as Stiles. Every one of them longed for news and yet neither wanted to hear some.

For that could mean their Alpha had fallen.

On the fourth day, Stiles used the fight that had erupted between Jackson and Erica to escape the suffocating air in the tunnels. He supposed he only managed to sneak out because they were all so preoccupied with going up the walls. The fresh air that hit him made breathing easier for once that day.

Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of those last days or because he had not been himself lately, but the noise behind him didn’t register until it was already too late.

Something jumped him, hauled him to the ground until all air left his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight. One of his ribs audible cracked piercing his chest. Eyes blurry with tears he looked up. Teeth clacked in front of his face, too close for comfort.

He twisted, tried to get away.

The beast holding him down was too strong, pressing his arms to the ground with too much force to escape. Claws cut his wrists until blood flowed hot over his skin. He screamed in pain, tried in vain to get away, to fight back to do something. He shouldn’t have left the tunnels. If only someone would hear.

The wolves.

Anyone.

 _Please,_ he thought, _please. S_ _omeone. Anyone._

The teeth came closer, threatened to rip a piece out of his throat. He felt the breath against his throat.

Stiles closed his eyes.

The impact didn’t come. His eyes shot open. Above him, there was nothing but the dark sky and his breath hovering in the air. And then, he heard it. A howl, loud enough to make even the treetops shake with its force. His breath caught in his lungs once more. He knew that howl.

He got up, suddenly helped by a pair of strong hands. A fight was happening in front of him. The beast, with its red skin and green eyes against a red glow and black fur. In that moment, Stiles felt his heart slow, to almost a normal pace.

“Derek-“ the name got stuck in his throat. The wolf’s eyes got caught in his for barely a second. A smile graced the lips that couldn’t close around the fangs in Derek’s mouth. Then his attention was directed back at his opponent. And he struck.

Stiles cried out, wanted to step in, to protect. But Parrish’s arms closed around him, keeping him right where he was.

“Don’t” The deputy said, force in his voice and strength in his grip that Stiles wouldn’t have thought possible. Heat enveloped him in Parrish’s embrace that burned its way over his arms.

“Let him handle it.”

But before Stiles had even decided, Derek struck a blow to the creature that had it roar in pain. Blood spilled from the wound, dripped to the ground, tinting it red. The beast made another feeble attempt at Derek but the wolf had the upper hand. Claws split skin. The creature fell to its knees, reaching for Derek. A gurgling sound escaped its chest, its eyes rolled back in its chest.

The body hit the ground unceremoniously.

Stiles stared at its unmoving form, the pain in his chest almost too present to ignore. He felt for it rather shakily.

He was ripped out of his trance by a gentle call of his name: “Stiles?” 

The vice grip around him had suddenly disappeared and with it the scorching heat. Derek’s arms closed around him before he could answer.

A tumult behind them broke out when the other members of the pack crawled out of the trapdoor. Shouts of “Derek” and excited whispers surrounded them but Stiles paid them no mind. He could finally breathe again, truly as if something had snapped into place with Derek’s arrival. He faintly heard Isaac murmur that he had been right and Scott hit him over the head for it.

Derek didn’t let go of him but turned to make sure everyone was alright, checking Lydia and Allison for their level of injuries. And then Stiles felt Derek’s eyes back on him and the gentle look turned into a frown.

“What were you doing outside alone?” Trust Derek to ruin this moment by being too observant. Stiles tried to hide behind Scott when Derek approached.

“Air,” he squeaked.

“Air? We’re on the run and instead of staying inside you go out to get some air?” Yep. That would not go down without a hit to his ego. The others were torn between watching and giving them their privacy.

“Guys-“ Allison, bless her, tried to intervene but one scowl from Derek and she stepped aside.

“You could have died-“ Derek suddenly spat out. Stiles’ stomach revolted. He didn’t want to think about that.

“If I hadn’t been there. If I hadn’t…” he trailed off, a horrified expression on his face. The anger seemed forgotten, exchanged for something much more terrifying to Stiles. Fear. Naked fear. He ignored the concerned looks of his pack, reached out until his hand rested against Derek’s cheek.

“But you made it. You were there. Just in time.” He didn’t feel bad about once again being the one getting saved. Derek had come to him when he needed him. Isaac had been right.

“You came for me.” He leaned in then, just a fraction and closed the gap between them, pressing a chaste kiss on Derek’s lips. The wolf froze as if wanting to step back but the reaction didn’t last long. Then he was reciprocating with more fervour Stiles would have thought possible.

The clearing of several throats had them let go. Stiles felt his cheeks heat up at the scrutiny. Scott raised an eyebrow at him when he opened the trapdoor to let Stiles inside. Stiles, in turn, just shrugged, not sure what to say. His heart though, did one flip after the other.

Once inside, Jackson came up to him.

“How bad?”

Stiles needed a second to understand what he was talking about. He wanted to lie, wanted to brush it off, say he had had worse but one glimpse at Jackson’s pinched eyebrows and he caved.

The wolf took some of his pain with his lips pursed.

Meanwhile Parrish had launched into a recapitulation of the last days. He had taken his phone with him, he was quick to assure Stiles, so the tracking device was still active. The sigh of relief that followed made Stiles’ ribs poke his chest rather painfully. Derek squeezed his arm in an attempt to soothe him.

As it turned out, Derek had been quick enough to take the dagger with him. And then they came to a point in the story where even Lydia couldn’t reign in her curiosity. Because while Derek was a good fighter, even he was not that good. They would have gone after him the most and Parrish shouldn’t, all things considered, have been able to contribute.

The deputy grinned sheepishly then, face flaming red. A gasp went through the pack collectively when the blush seemed to intensify until flames licked over Parrish’s skin. Scott and Erica made a move as if to help him but Derek held them back. Lydia was the first to approach, the heat seemingly not a threat to her.

With an outstretched hand, she asked, voice still not up to par: “What are you?”

Parrish didn’t answer.

It was Derek that did: “Hellhound.”

Wide eyed, Stiles stepped closer, fascinated by the play of flames, orange, red, yellow, covering all of Parrish’s body. His clothing didn’t turn to ashes under the onslaught of fire and Stiles made a mental note to ask the deputy how that was possible.

“Fire proof,” the deputy supplied and Stiles wondered if he had said the question out loud.

“You keep staring at my chest,” Parrish supplied.

“So, either you want to know about the clothes or you’re just really into my body.”

The growl that Derek let loose at those words was by no means warranted. Just when the air got a little too hot to bear, the fire suddenly went out, flames disappearing.

“So, what now?” Isaac seemed agitated by the new addition to their supernatural circle. Derek produced the dagger then and said:

“We’re staying one more night. The tunnels should be secure and we need to be well rested. Jordan-“ Stiles noted the change of names immediately “will guide us to where the Sheriff is being held captive. I think-“ he shared a look with Stiles.

“I think that demon is just waiting for us to come out.”

“Leverage,” Parrish concluded, eyes never leaving Stiles.

“I saw what he can do. He doesn’t need to look for us because he knows we’ll come to him anyway.”

“But if he knows…” Erica started but trailed off with something akin to fear in her eyes.

“We’re easy targets.” Boyd finished for her.

“That’s why I want you to rest. So that once we get to him, we are not.” Stiles tried to remember a time when Derek had been so full of determination. He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought that on.

The next morning came far too quickly and yet not soon enough. Stiles had barely been able to sleep, even though he knew, he needed to. Thoughts of his father kept waking him up, breathing hard in Derek’s arms until the Alpha had calmed him back down with sweet promises on his lips.

“I need all of you to listen to me.” Derek said once they were all geared up and ready to go. He watched Jackson and Stiles more sternly than the others and Stiles tried hard not to be offended.

“No one runs in alone. I don’t care what he’s showing you or if you want to protect someone close to you,” he paused as if to make sure they had heard him.

“This will not be a solo performance, do you understand? We are a pack and we will fight as one!”

The force of his words washed through them, partly pack bond, partly his strength just echoing inside them.

* * *

An hour, Stiles would think later, an hour of peace was what they got before they arrived at their destination. The minute they excited their cars, Stiles knew that the cards were stacked against them. A mob of people made up a barrier, shielding something that Stiles couldn’t see but that made Isaac beside him snarl with barely contained anger.

They stepped closer, au united front that Parrish fit himself into seamlessly. Stiles expected an attack and was beyond confused when the people let them pass without a word. And then it hit him.

They weren’t here to stop them but to keep them there. He turned around, saw the wall of people close their ranks so that the cars were not visible anymore, and instantly felt the fear rise like bile in his throat.

“It’s alright,” Derek murmured while his eyes were focused on the circle of ash in front of them. Stiles had been so focussed on the people behind him that he hadn’t realised who that figure laying on the ground was. But it dawned quite suddenly.

Strong hands held him back when he gave a shout and tried to storm forward. His father’s figure didn’t move and he couldn’t make out whether or not he was still breathing or not.

“Dad!” Stiles’ foot touched the line and flames roared to life. Someone beside him, it may have been Derek, gasped.

“Finally, you have arrived,” a booming voice greeted them. For a second, Stiles couldn’t make out where it was coming from, then he saw something materialise in the middle of the circle, not two feet away from his father.

“I was getting rather bored with your antics, you know?” It looked like shadows melting together until they were one. Stiles counted seven horns on its head, black wings, leathery and scorched.

He had read the description but nothing could have prepared him for the atrocity that was Belphegor in all his glory.

The pack had meanwhile surrounded the circle, staring at each other and the demon in turn. Isaac’s eyes reflected the flames like water that was on fire. Stiles saw determination in Jackson’s face and anger in Scott’s.

The lifeless figure of his father’s body held his concentration captive. He needed to focus.

“He’s still breathing,” Derek whispered. The demon laughed as if he had heard the words. If all legends were true, he might as well have.

“Do step closer,” he said, tone teasing and a grin around fangs that his mouth couldn’t contain. Stiles tried but was instantly burned. Derek hissed in warning beside him.

_Right. No solo performances._

Suddenly, a piercing scream made Stiles cover his ears. His eyes found Lydia’s almost automatically. She put all she had into her power, the sound deafening and shrill. And then it stopped.

Just stopped, mid scream. She grabbed her throat, eyes bulging. Jackson roared in anger, tried to step closer. Lydia’s mouth opened, eyes fixed on the demon.

But no sound came out.

“You see,” Belphegor said while picking at his claws “I know quite a bit about you.” he levelled Derek with a look.

“So, I made the necessary arrangements.” he waved a hand towards the Sheriff, Stiles cracking his knuckles where he was still not permitted entry into the circle of, what he supposed was, hellfire.

“You are the brain,” Stiles didn’t pay much attention to what the demon was saying, all bad guys loved to hear themselves talk after all, but something of the speech still made it through the haze of worry and anger.

He looked up.

“Your father is your weak spot. He makes you act without thinking.” And the guy wasn’t wrong. If Derek hadn’t been there, he would have been killed because of his own stupidity.

“And you,” the demon turned his attention towards Lydia who was still unable to speak.

“Your biggest power is your voice. And it quite vexing what you can do with it.” He smirked at her useless tries to scream.

“I simply had to take that away. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be revenge, now would it?”

“What for?” Jackson quipped, portraying a confident stance but Stiles saw right through him. He had one goal in talking to a Knight of Hell, who could smite him out of existence with a snap of his fingers, like that: to direct his attention away from Lydia.

“For killing my soldiers, of course.”

 _Yeah. Of course, asshole. As if there weren’t a thousand better reasons_ , Stiles thought sarcastically.

“Now, I would rather like to move this a bit forward.” Before Stiles realised what was happening, his body fell forward into a sprint. The demon had gathered his father’s body up from the ground and held a claw to his throat. The Sheriff didn’t react. Stiles reached the flames, could feel them on his skin.

And was shoved to the side.

In fact, whatever had hit him had been so forceful, he fell to the ground. He heard a pained howl and saw Derek rush through the circle, the flames rising higher than they ever had. But Stiles was caught in the moment, fixating on the pleased smile on the demon’s face. In an instant, his father had become uninteresting.

“Well, well, well…” the demon said, amusement tainting his voice. Stiles knew then, that it had all been a play. Belphegor couldn’t have cared less about Stiles. It was the Alpha he had wanted from the first minute on. Stiles was grateful for his instinct then, that he had let Derek carry the dagger. The very one Stiles saw the Alpha reach for in a cleverly obscured movement of his hand.

Whatever the demon wanted from Derek, Stiles didn’t want to find out. So, instead of waiting, he did what every movie had taught him over the course of the years.

_Make him talk. Villains love to hear themselves talk._

In his desperation there was only one question hat came to his mind, so, he yelled it over the rushing of the fire, confusing not only Derek but the whole pack.

“Why wasn’t Allison affected? Why single her out?” Scott took an instinctive step closer to his fiancé.

“Such a nosy little human, are you? But, I do suppose you deserve an answer before I kill you.” The demon never let his eyes off of Derek, tracking each movement carefully. But he didn’t appear concerned, merely not stupid enough to get distracted from his opponent as Stiles had hoped he would.

“You see, I would have gladly touched her too but she treads very lightly, this one. Although, I must congratulate my wonderful Wrath. She did come quite close, the closest out of all of them in fact. Almost-“ he opened his hand as if grasping for something that wasn’t there, something fleeting.

Meanwhile, Isaac tried to cross the line of fire too and was hauled back by an invisible force. Stiles understood at once, that the demon had closed the circle so that Derek was caught inside.

_Right where he wants him._

“You can count yourself lucky, beautiful Huntress. You would have made such a lovely wrathful creature. It is in you, you realise?”

Allison, to Stiles absolute horror, nodded, but a smirk graced her lips.

“I know- it’s why I got out of here as soon as I knew she was there-“

“Quite the bold decision, I would have liked to see if you would have had the power to overcome it like the Kanima did…” he trailed off as if it was a conversation about the weather while Stiles saw Jackson flinch. The pain was still too fresh for him to not curl in on himself.

“An impressive feat, my friend,” he addressed Jackson, who growled at him. To Stiles, it was clear, that Jackson was far more scared than angry, but he dearly hoped the demon didn’t see it.

“I bow down to your strength,” he imitated a bow, similar to how an actor may exit the stage. It felt morbid to even look at him.

“And then there is you. The young Alpha,” Derek stood tall, chest puffed, shoulders back. For a moment, Stiles thought he didn’t even feel the heat of the flames surrounding him.

Flames of all things, he thought to himself. There was no punishment crueller than this.

“Such power, such responsibility…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was as if the pack was collectively working with Stiles. Derek included, just to give the Alpha some time. They needed time. Just a bit more time, so that maybe, Stiles would come up with a plan, anything, to help Derek.

“Well, you see, young Alpha, it is quite simple. I must say, I am truly impressed. I have never met an individual so prone to sin as you. My Dear, you are excellent feeding material.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’ve been watching you, young Alpha. I know of your past, of your present, so let me elaborate, it is such an exceptional matter after all: You, my dear creature, you embody each of my sins, have a bit of each of them cursing through your veins as we speak. You weren’t quite right, Stiles. He did feel the impact my demons had on the pack through the pack bond, but that was not all of it. Your Alpha, you see, has all of my sins already within himself.

They just needed to be brought to the surface.

A glutton for company, so much so that you turned a pack of innocent teenagers and called yourself their King.

Too lazy to lead your pack the way you were supposed to as their Alpha, even when they needed your comfort most of all. My Sloth didn’t even have to do much to stop you from putting in effort.

Too prideful to ask for help when you needed it more desperately than the air you breathe, too stubborn to admit how much that new boyfriend of your beloved young human hurt you.

Lust seeping through your every pore whenever you felt his touch on your starved skin. Kate Argent, Jennifer Blake and Stiles Stilinski. Each of them burning hotter than the last but none of them quite as all-consuming as young Stiles here.

First greedy for power, killing your own uncle to become Alpha yourself, then for company so you created a pack of people who couldn’t choose anyone else but you.

So wonderfully envious of each and every member of your pack, even more so than your human was when Envy touched him. You’re jealous, my friend, of the silent one here for his strength, of the she-wolf for her drive, the Kanima for his confidence, the dark-haired one for his ability to lead, the huntress for her skill, the Banshee for her mind, the cherub for his resilience and the human for his courage. Even a snippet of one of them you would revel in.

And Wrath, my beautiful, loyal Wrath. You have done her justice, even more so than the Kanima. Your anchor, your drive, it all pools around my deadliest sin. The rage in your soul is truly marvellous, Alpha, unmatched even.

And it is all about yourself. You are not angry with the world, or that tempting huntress, or even your uncle. You are angry with yourself, for being too weak, too naïve, too soft.” he paused dramatically

“You are the epitome of sin, each of my soldiers embodied in every move you make. It is a wonder, my Dear, how one wolf can carry this much hell inside and still walk upright. But I have a cure for you. Let me lift the burden from your shoulders.”

The demon’s voice had taken a sweet note, fingers cradling Derek’s chin until the wolf’s red eyes were focussed solely on him.

Stiles saw the shadow passing over Derek’s eyes. He screamed his name.

But the Alpha didn’t hear him anymore.

* * *

_Darkness._

_He relied on his other senses besides sight to make out where he was, what had happened. He heard heavy breathing then, just to his right, and when he turned, he knew something was wrong. Scott, a younger version, obviously asthmatic, was fighting the turn before his eyes. It looked painful when the moon above them was burning in his veins._

_Derek felt the urge to reach out, to reassure that everything was alright but something stopped him._

_This wasn’t how that night had gone._

_Scott hadn’t turned in the woods. He knew this, had seen him run from the party. This was all wrong.  
_

_The scenery changed to the graveyard where a blonde boy was working late. Derek watched again as Isaac was buried in the grave, yelling for help. That desire for company that he had felt that night overwhelming him again. He refrained from coming to the boy’s aid._

_He had a pack, he thought to himself._

_Erica and Boyd were next, waiting for his call and doing his every bidding. He couldn’t suppress the shiver of power and hated himself for it, hated himself for wanting to chase that, for wanting more. The pieces slowly merged together when they accepted him as their Alpha._

_He had been so cocky, so sure of himself back then, he realised. Not because he cared about them but because he was forming a pack of impressionable teenagers that would treat him like a superior._

_Like an Alpha, his subconscious whispered._

_He shook it off._

_This wasn’t what he wanted.  
_

_A tingling feeling in his gut spread to his arms and then it was dark again._

_When his sight came back to him, the scenery had changed to a fight he had wanted to erase form his brain. Scott, bloody and beaten and oh so desperate. His Betas wounded by Argents and how he had stood above them and not moved a muscle. He had refused to help, refused to care because back then he had thought it to make him weak._

_But he had been wrong, so wrong and if he could take it back now, he would._

_Another snap, another memory. He still felt the pain of the wolfsbane seeping through his pores where Allison’s mother had shot him, where Kate had tortured him. How badly he had wanted to ask for help, anyone, even Scott if need be. But he just couldn’t, couldn’t trust anyone but himself. It had led him down a dark path of vengeance and blood that he would never truly recover from. If only he had had the guts to ask, Scott, Stiles, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, even Jackson. Anyone really. But he hadn’t. And it had been his downfall._

_What is an Alpha without a pack, his mother had always asked._

_And now he knew the answer._

_Nothing._

_His senses were suddenly overwhelmed with three different smells: gunpowder, wood and cinnamon. Three names popped up in his head, three scenes playing out before his eyes. Each time he was kissing someone and each time it was a different partner._

_Kate, with her harsh tongue and quick wit, Jennifer, with her gentle hands and soft eyes and Stiles._

_Stiles, who kissed like Derek was his life, like the world centred around him and he would die if he let go. Derek allowed himself to dwell in it, to watch himself and Stiles kiss, undress each other, fall back against the bed. At first, he didn’t realise that something was wrong. But it hit him, a minute into watching himself tear Stiles apart with his hands, that they had never gotten there._

_This wasn’t real, wasn’t what had happened. He had wished it, had desired it but not like this. Not in comparison. And if Stiles didn’t want him like that, it would hurt, but he would be alright._

_Even just as a friend._

_The snap hurt more this time, Derek noticed. But he was glad to be away from that bizarre sight, from Stiles’ planes of skin that he craved to touch._

_Peter knelt before him, begging for his life and Derek watched himself take the Alpha’s power from him. He still remembered what it felt like, that rush, the red seeping into his eyes and tinting the whole world red. He had been drunk on it, ready to kill again just to strengthen what his sister had paid with her life for. A need, bubbling just under the surface, to take more, to find others and become stronger, faster, impossible to kill._

_A true Alpha._

_A King._

_He shied back from the thought, too caught up in that moment for his own good. He shook it off, tried to clear his head. This wasn’t what it felt like, what he wanted. Peter had been dangerous, a murderer, he needed to be stopped. Scott had needed an Alpha. This had been the only way._

_But was it? Was it really?_

_That voice whispered to him. He looked back at the scene, at Allison’s crossbow, pointed directly at Peter. Not Derek. Peter. Even though, he was dead. Derek hadn’t needed to do it. But he had done it. For the wrong reasons, he knew now. But he was trying to get better, the power rush not getting to his head anymore._

_An Alpha without a pack is just as lonely as any other omega, he reminded himself._

_Envy hit him like a freight train. Of Boyd and Erica, Isaac and Scott, of Jackson, Stiles, Lydia, Allison. Each of them having something, Derek didn’t call his own. Family. Friends. Pack. All that he didn’t have. A relationship that he couldn’t make work. Stiles and his stupid boyfriend._

_He took a moment to breathe. This wasn’t true. He had told Stiles there was nothing to be envious about and he had meant it. Even if not long ago, he had been jealous of all the things his_ _pack had on him. But he remembered the first time patting Scott’s shoulder because he had done well, the way Isaac snuggled close at night because Derek was more his family than his own relatives had ever been. Jackson coming to him for advice and listening to his every word._

_Lydia standing up for him when a rival pack had insulted him. Erica draping herself all over him because they were both starved of physical touch. Boyd having his back wherever he went. Allison’s trust in him that had never once wavered since she had joined his pack._

_And Stiles. Stiles with his belief, this illogical belief in him that just wouldn’t fade whatever Derek did wrong. He needn’t be envious, but proud. And he could learn, from each of them._

_The snap rushed through him, hurting more and more and becoming harder to ignore._

_He smelled it first. Before he heard them. Fire. Flames. Everywhere. His body went into autopilot. He saw Kate with a match, the smoke filling the air. Screams came from the basement. He fell to his knees, tried to save them.  
_

_Kate shot him in the chest and he felt nothing but anger, wished she had hit her target a little better._

_If only she’d hit his heart then this would all be over._

_The memories suffocated him like the smoke had that night. It had been his fault._

_If he had been smarter-_

_Jackson was on a rampage, killing people left and right. He had turned the boy because he needed a pack and the teenager was strong and had seemed so self-assured. A mistake, a stupid mistake because he hadn’t been patient enough, hadn’t listened to what his gut was telling him. That Jackson was trouble, wasn’t ready. Maybe because he wanted it so much._

_If only he hadn’t been so determined-_

_Scott was working with Gerard and wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t listen. Innocent people were in danger, Derek was on the verge of dying and the boy wouldn’t listen. Derek cursed himself and his inability to make the boy see sense. He shouldn’t have been put in that position, shouldn’t even be an Alpha. This was his fault._

_If only he were better-_

_Stiles was possessed and missed Allison by a hair. Derek had tried to stop him, had tried to help where he could but the fox spirit had more destruction in him than anything he had seen before. He tried to reason, to get through to Stiles, the real Stiles, but all for naught._

_If only he had been more perceptive-_

_Jennifer had come with a whirlwind of emotions, playing up to all his weak spots and almost managed to kill him for good. Maybe it would have been better this way. She had kissed him almost too gently, almost too sweetly. He had hoped, had prayed to even get a slice of happiness. But instead, he had watched her hurt Stiles and Scott and everyone else he cared about._

_If only he had-_

* * *

**“Derek!”**

At first, he couldn’t make out who the voice belonged to, as if he was hearing it through water. But then, it finally registered.

_Stiles!_

He was catapulted to the present but the memories were still there, playing on a loop and threatening to pull him back.

He needed a moment to understand what Stiles was yelling at him. One word. Only one word and yet it seemed as if it was the most important thing to him.

An onslaught of memories hit him. He was back in the Argent’s basement, watching his family die, hearing Stiles as the Nogitsune.

“Forgiveness!” The pack as a whole screamed at him.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Derek snarled between his teeth. But Stiles had anticipated it, had counted on it and was quick to set him right. It was their one chance. If Derek would only realise…

“No! Derek- no!” Derek looked at him cluelessly as if Stiles had gone off the deep end.

“Not us! You!”

Him? What did Stiles mean with that?

“Yourself, Derek!” Stiles yelled over the sound of fire roaring. Derek focused on his voice, the only calm in the storm, clinging to every word he could hear.

“You have to forgive yourself!”

Something snapped inside him then. As if every illusion, every mistake came barrelling down on him all at once. Still, Stiles’ face remained impassive, like the anchor he was. Derek pulled on that connection, felt the bond strengthened. He reached out, to Erica’s presence, strong and unwavering, Scott with his determination, Boyd’s quiet strength, Jackson with that deep protectiveness, Lydia and her calm, Isaac and his loyalty. He clung to Allison’s sharp mind, her aim, channelled what was Stiles’ fierce love.

They were his. His pack, his friends, his family. And he would protect them for all he was worth. Because they loved him. Because they had chosen him.

The illusions wavered. Reality mixed with shadows of the past. He could see clearly again, could hear their screams while his pack yelled for him. Two packs at the same time, one being erased while the other had risen. And he had chosen them right. His pack. Which he deserved, because it hadn’t been his fault. And if he continued to believed that, made himself believe that, he would safe them. Because he hadn’t been able to safe his family then but he could save his family _now_.

And he would.

They were what he needed.

 _All_ he needed.

He breathed in to steady the tremble in his arms. Power surged through him with each connection to the others he held onto, explored. Their strength held him up, guiding him like a light in the dark.

His hand moved on its own accord, finding its target.

And suddenly, it was all over. He couldn’t smell the fire anymore. Neither in his past nor in his present. Someone groaned beside him.

His eyes took a moment to focus, then the Sheriff came into view, slowly getting up and looking bewildered, if not afraid.

Not much else after that rang through to him. He barely felt Stiles’ scent hit him, surround him like a protective blanket.

Derek collapsed in Stiles’ arms with a smile on his face.

He had done it.

_It was over._

* * *

The dagger had separated again after Belphegor was no longer. Stiles had handed each pack member “their” ring, for safekeeping he had said. In reality, he wanted them to be reminded of each of their victories whenever they looked at it.

Deaton had told him the dagger had undone evil and the rings were no longer tainted because said evil had been banished, at least for the time being. As it turned out, Derek all but forced Jackson to take Wrath’s ring. Stiles suspected it was because Jackson needed it more. He saw a flicker of relief pass through Jackson when he touched the ring and nothing happened.

Still, the Alpha had been behaving strange lately. After collapsing in Stiles’ arms, he had distanced himself from the pack with no explanation. To them, it felt like a revival of the old days and they didn’t like it.

That was the reason, why Stiles found himself pouring his heart out to his father on a warm Thursday morning. To his surprise, the Sheriff stopped him mid rant.

“Let me tell you something before you go on.” Stiles nodded his bewildered consent and sat back.

“I saw her die,” his father said. Stiles instantly felt nauseous. Of all the things…

“That day, I saw her die over and over again. Until Derek killed that-“ he huffed a sigh, eyes a little glassy.

“I never wanted to go back there again, Stiles. Do you understand? But he made me see it, watch her go until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So, I can only imagine what someone like Derek-“ he cleared his throat “what someone like Derek must have seen.”

Stiles nodded in understanding, dread in his stomach. He got up rather quickly, a sudden need to see the Alpha urging him on.

“I’ll be back later.”

The Sheriff let him go with a satisfied nod and yelled after him:   
  
"I won't wait up!" 

* * *

“You told me it wasn’t real.” Stiles accused when he stormed into the loft. Derek was taken aback by the sudden anger and wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it. He made an attempt to speak up but Stiles shushed him, an eyebrow raised threateningly.

“When I got attacked by Envy, you continuously told me not to believe it because it wasn’t real. What she showed me! Just illusions. And I get it was different. That he showed you the past but you fought it off.”

“You weren’t there.” Derek huffed, tired of the conversation and afraid of the extent of his faults Stiles might know.

“But I know what you saw.” It was said so simply as if baring his soul like that didn’t hurt Derek.

“Because I know you, Derek. And I know why anger was your anchor for so long. And the demon was right. It’s why you couldn’t break out of the last one so easily.”

“I-“

“No. If it counts for me, it counts for you. That’s how this works, remember?”

Derek stared at him as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“It isn’t that simple.”

“It is. Because you accept me with all my flaws. Why shouldn’t I accept you with yours?” And maybe there was desperation pouring into his voice but he didn’t care. He just needed Derek to understand that this wasn’t a one-way street.

“I know what you did. I was there for most of it. And I don’t fucking care, okay? You’ve changed so much since then and-“ he paused, heart in his throat and throbbing with all the suppressed feelings he had harboured for the Alpha for way too long.

“And I still love you, even though you said no solo performances and ran in like lunatic which I still haven't forgiven you for,” he finished, keeping eye contact even when every instinct in him wanted to look away. He watched something change in Derek when he heard those words and dearly hoped it was something good.

“Stiles-“

“You don’t have to say it back. That’s not why I said it. I just want you to know that it doesn’t matter. Not to me and not to the pack.” he breathed in shakily around the lump in his throat.

“You’re a great Alpha. And we- I- I love you, Derek Hale.”

* * *

Flowers were blooming when Scott sank down on his knees, a ring in his hand and a smile on his face. Allison, not as surprised as Stiles thought she would be, agreed in a heartbeat, tears drenching both of their shirts. The ring fit her perfectly, making her laugh softly once she got a good look at it.

Isaac was the first to congratulate them, patting Scott’s shoulder. Lydia caught Allison in a hug, her mascara leaving black lines on her face where the tears had fallen. Jackson and Boyd, both stoic as ever, shook hands with Scott before he pulled them into a hug. Stiles saw all three of them smile and felt his heart swell up.

Erica screeched loudly enough for all of their eardrums to protest. She almost ran over Allison in her haste to hug her.

And while Stiles stood there, watching the glee overtaking Allison’s face, he turned to Derek. Memories of Envy and her illusions once again crowd his mind and he thinks back to the day Scott chose the ring. Funny, how he had never imagined to be here and feel only happiness at his best friend’s joy. The sting of envy seemed pointless now with Derek by his side, holding him so close.

Stiles smiled up at him, seeing his own emotions reflected in Derek’s eyes. And maybe, he thought to himself, his own happiness had always been there. If only he had been brave enough to reach for it.

Derek squeezed his hand then, as if aware what was going through Stiles’ mind.

“I love you, Stiles Stilinski” the Alpha whispered softly, an open expression on his face. And he knew then, with his pack surrounding him and Derek so close that he was enough.

That he would always be enough, to the people that counted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Let me know your predictions, opinions, ideas or whatever else you want to share with me in the comments. 
> 
> I would naturally appreciate you leaving kudos if you feel the story deserves it.


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